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THE 



WAYS OF THE HOUR 



A TA L E. 



BY 



J. FENIMORE COOPER 



" la this the way 
must rfiturn to niitive dust? 



NEW YORK: 
D. APPLE TON AND COMPANY, 

6^19 & 551 BROADWAY. 
1873. 




\673 



Entered, according to the Act of Congrebs, In the yoftr 1801, by 

W. A. TOWNSENl) AND COMPANY, 

iw the Clfrk's Ofiice of the iJiatrict Court for the Southern District of New Yoik. 



f| 







PREFACE. 



The object of this book is to draw tlic attention of 
the reader to some of the social evils that beset lis ; 
more particularly in connection with the administration 
of criminal justice. So long a time has intervened 
since the thought occurred, and so many interruptions 
have delayed the progress of the work, that it is felt 
the subject has been very imperfectly treated ; but it is 
lioped that enough has been done to cause a few to re- 
flect on a matter of vital importance ; one that to them 
may possess the interest of novelty. 

A strange indifference exists as to the composition of 
the juries. In our view, the institution itself, so admi- 
rable in a monarchy, is totally unsuited to a democracy. 
The very principle that renders it so safe where there is 
a great central power to resist, renders it unsafe in a 
state of society in which few have sufficient resolution 
to attempt even to resist popular impulses. 

A hundred instances might be given in which the 



V II K K A C K 



juries oi* tliis country jiro an evil , one or two of which 
we will i)oiiit out. In trials between railroad compa- 
nies and those who dwell along their lines, prejudice is 
usually so strong against the former, that justice foi 
them is nearly liopeless. In certain parts of the coun- 
try, the jui'ies arc made the instruments of defeating 
the claims of creditors wdio dwell at a distance, and ar(3 
believed to have interests opposed to tlie particular 
community where the debtor resides. This is a most 
crying evil, and has been the source of many and griev- 
ous wrongs. Whenever there is a motive for creating 
ji simulated public opinion, by the united action of sev- 
eral journals, justice is next to hopeless ; such combina- 
tions rarely, if ever, occurring in its behalf. In cases 
that are connected with the workings of political 
schemes, ami not unfrecpicntly in those in which polit- 
ical men are parties to the suits, it is often found that 
the general prtvjudices or partialities of the out-door fac- 
tions enter the jury-box. This is a most serious evil 
too ; for, even when the feeling does not produce a 
direct and flagrant wrong, it is very apt so far to tem- 
l>er the right as to deprive it of nnu-h of its virtue. In 
a country like this, in which party penetrates to the 
very bottom of society, the extent of this evil can be 
known only to those wdio are brought into close contact 
with the ordinary workings of the institution. 

In a democracy, proper selections in the material that 
ai-e necessary to render juries safe, become nearly im- 
possible. Then, the tendency is to the accmnulation of 
lK)wer in bodies of men ; and in a state of society like 



P It K K A C IC . 



our own, tlie juries get to l)c miu^li too iudcpciKlciit of 
the opinion of tlio court. It is precisely in that condi- 
tion of tilings in wliich tlic inihiencc and antliority of 
the judge guide the juror, and the investigation and 
substantial power of tlie juror react on tlie ])roceediiigs 
of tlie court, that the greatest beneliis have been found 
to accrue from this institution. The reverse of this 
state of things will be very likely to produce the great- 
est amount of evil. 

It is certain that the juries are falling into disrejuite 
throughout the length and breadth of the land. The 
difiiculty is to find a substitute. As they arc bodies 
holding the lives, property and character of every mem- 
ber of the community, more or less, in their powei*, it is 
not to be supposed that the masses will surrender this 
important means of exercising their authority volun- 
tarily, or with good will. Time alone can bring reform 
through the extent of the abuses. 

The writer has not the vanity to suppose that any 
thing contained in this book will ])roducc a very serious 
imj^ression on the popularity of the jury. Such is not 
its design. All that is anticipated is to cause a portion 
of his readers to reflect on the subject; persons who 
probably have never yet given it a moment of thought. 

There is a tendency, at the present time, to court 
change for its own sake. This is erroneously termed a 
love of reform. Something very like a revolution is 
going on in our midst, while there is much reason to 
ap])rehend that few rcal grievances are abated; the 
spurious too exclusively {)ccuj)ying the popular mind. 



Mil P R E FA C E. 

\o render easy a just distinction between tlicni. AYhcL 
an American prates about aristocracy, it is pretty safe 
to set him down as knavish or ignorant. It is pm*cly 
cant ; and the declaimers would be puzzled to point to 
a single element of the little understood and much de- 
cried institution, the country being absolutely without 
any, unless the enjoyment of the ordinary rights of 
property can be so considered. But the demagogue 
must have his war-cry as well as the Indian ; and it is 
probable he wdll continue to Avhoop as long as the 
country contains minds weak enough to furnish him 
with dupes. 

CJOOPERSTOTVN, March 12, 1850. 




THE WAYS OF THE HOUB 



CHAPTER I. 

Mar. My lord Aumcrlc, is Harry Hereford armed ? 
Aum. Yea, at all points ; and longs to enter in. 

Kmg Richard II. 

In one respect, there is a visible improvement in the goodly 
town of Manhattan, and that is in its architecture. Of its 
growth, there has never been any question, while many have 
disputed its pretension to improvement. A vast expansion of 
mediocrity, though useful and imposing, rarely satisfies either 
the judgment or the taste; those who possess these qualities, 
requiring a nearer approach to what is excellent, than can ever 
be found beneath the term just mentioned. 

A town which is built of red bricks, that are faced with white 
marble, the whole garnished with green blinds, can never have 
but one outward sign — that of tawdry vulgarity. But this 
radical defect is slowly disappearing from the streets of Man- 
hattan ; and those who build, are getting to understand that 
architecture, like statuary, will not admit of strong contrasts in 
colours. Horace .Walpole tells us of a certain old Lord Pem- 
broke, who blackened the eyes of the gods and goddesses in the 
celebrated gallery at AVilton, and prided himself on the achieve- 
ment, as if he had been another Phidias. There have been 
thousands of those who have laboured in the spirit of this Earl 

f9^ 



10 THE WATS OF THE HOUR. 

of Pembroke in the streets of all the American towns; hut tra 
veiling, hints, hooks and example, are slowly effecting a change ; 
and whole squares may now he seen in which the eye rests with 
safisfaction on blinds, facings and bricks, all brought to the same 
pleasing, sober, architectural tint. We regard this as the first 
step, in advance, that has been made in the right direction, so 
far as the outward aspect of the town is concerned, and look for- 
ward, with hope, to the ddy when Manhattan shall have banished 
its rag-fair finery altogether, and the place will become as remark- 
able for the chaste simplicity of its streets, as they have hitherto 
been for their marked want of taste. 

With this great towai, mottled as it is, in people as well as in 
hues, with its native population collected from all parts of this 
vast republic, and its European representatives amounting to 
scores of thousands, w^e shall have much to do in the succeeding 
pages. Our researches, however, will be bestowed more on 
things moral than on things physical; and w^c shall endeavour 
to carry the reader with us through scenes that, we regret to say, 
are far more characteristic than novel. 

In one of the cross streets that communicate with Broadway, 
and below Canal, stands a dwelling that is obnoxious to all the 
charges of bad taste to which there has already been allusion, us 
well as to certain others that have not yet been named, at all. 
A quarter of a century since, or within the first twenty years of 
its own existence, the house in question would have been regarded 
as decidedly patrician, though it is now lost amid the thousands 
of similar abodes that have arisen since its own construction. 
There it stands, with its red bricks periodically painted redder ; 
its marble facings, making a livery of red turned up with white ; 
its green blinds, its high stoop, its half-buried and low basement, 
and all its neatness and comfort, notwithstiinding its flagrant 
architectural sins. Into this building we now propose to enter. 
at the very early hour of eight in the morning. 



T n E W A Y S U F T II E 11 O U k. 11 

The principal floor was divided, as usual, bctwecu a dining and 
a. drawing-room, with large communicating doors. This was the 
stereotyped construction of all Manhattanese dwellings of any 
pretension, a quarter of a oentury since; and that of Mr. Thomas 
Dunscomb, the owner and occupant of the house in question, 
had been built in rigid conformity with the fashion of its day. 
'Squire Dunscomb, as this gentleman was termed in all the 
adjacent country counties, where he was well known as a reliable 
and sound legal adviser; Mr. Thomas Dunscomb, as he was 
styled by various single ladies, who wondered he never married ; 
or Tom Dunscomb, as he was familiarly called by a herd of un- 
yoked youths, all of whom were turned of sixty, was a capital 
fellow in each of his many characters. As a lawyer, he was as 
near the top of the bar as a man can be, who never had any pre- 
tensions to be an orator, and whose longest efibrt seldom exceeded 
half an hom\ Should the plan of placing eloquence in hobbles 
reach our own bar, his habit of condensing, his trick of getting 
multum in parvo, may yet bring him to the very summit; for 
he will have an immense advantage over those who, resembling 
a country buck at a town ball, need the whole field to cut their 
flourishes in. As a man of the world, he was well-bred, though 
a little cynical, very agreeable, most especially with the ladies, 
and quite familiar with all the better habits of the best-toned 
circles of the place. As a boon companion, Tom Dunscomb 
was an immense favourite, being particularly warm-hearted, and 
always ready for any extra eating or drinking. In addition to 
these leading qualities, Dunscomb was known to be rich, having 
inherited a very tolerable estate, as well as having added much 
to his means, by a large and lucrative practice. If to these cir- 
cumstances we add that of a very prepossessing personal appear- 
ance, in which age was very green, the reader has all that is 
necessary for an introduction to one of our principal characters. 

Though a bachelor, Mr. Dunscomb did not live alone. lie 



12 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

had a nephew and a niece in his family, the orphan children of J 
Bister who had now been dead many years. They bore the Lame 
of Wilmetcr, which, in the family parlance, was ahiiost always 
pronounced Wilmington. It was Jack Wilmington, and Sally 
Wilmington, at school, at home, and with all their intimates; 
though Mr. John Wilmctcr and Miss Sarah Wilmeter were often 
spoken of in their little out-door world; it being rather an affec- 
tation of the times to prove, in this manner, that one retains 
some knowledge of the spelling-book. We shall write the name 
as it is written by the parties themselves, forewarning the reader 
that if he desire to pronounce it by the same family standard, 
he must take the unauthorized spelling as a guide. We own 
ourselves to a strong predilection for old familiar sounds, as well 
as old familiar faces 

At half-past 8, A. M., of a fine morning, late in May, when 
the roses were beginning to show their tints amid the verdure of 
the leaves, in Mr. Dunscomb's yard, the three individuals just 
mentioned were at the breakfast-table of what it is the fashion 
of New York to term a dining-room. The windows were open, 
and a soft and fragrant air filled the apartment. We have said 
that Mr. Dunscomb was affluent, and he chose to enjoy his 
means, not a la Manhattan, in idle competition with the noMueawa: 
riches, but in a more quiet and rational way. His father had 
occupied lots, "running through,^' as it is termed; building his 
house on one street and his stables on the other; leaving himself 
a space in the rear of the former, that was prodigious for a towu 
so squeezed into parallelogi'ams of twenty-five feet by a hundred. 
This open space was of the usual breadth, but it actually mea- 
sured a hundred and fifty feet in length, an area that would have 
almost justified its being termed a "park,^' in the nomenclature 
of the town. This yard Sarah had caused to be well garnished 
with shrubbery, and, for its dimensions, it was really a sort of 
oasis, in that wilderness of bricks. 



THE WAYS O F THE H O U R. 13 

Tlie family was not alone that morning. A certain JMicliael 
Millington was a guest of Jack's, and seemingly quite at home 
in the little circle. The business of eating and drinking was 
pretty well through with, though each of the four cups had its 
remains of tea or coffee, and Sarah sat stirring hers idly, while 
ber soft eyes were turned with interest on the countenances of the 
two young men. The last had a sheet of writing-paper lying 
between them, and their heads were close together, as both 
studied that which was written on it in pencil. As for Mr. Duns- 
comb, himself, he was fairly surrounded by documents of one 
sort and another. Two or three of the morning papers, glanced 
at but not read, lay opened on the floor ; on each side of his plate 
was a brief, or some lease or release ; while a copy of the new 
and much talked of code was in his hand. As we say in our 
American English, Mr. Dunscomb was " emphatically' ' a com- 
mon-law lawyer ; and, as our transatlantic brethren would remark 
in their sometime cockney dialect, he was not at all " agreeable' ' 
to this great innovation on Hhe perfection of human reason.' 
He muttered occasionally as he read, and now and then he laid 
down the book, and seemed to muse. All this, however, was 
quite lost on Sarah, whose soft blue eyes still rested on the in- 
terested countenances of the two young men. At lengrth Jack 
seized the paper, and wrote a line or two hurriedly, with his 
pencil. 

"There, Mike," he said, in a tone of self-gratulation, "I 
think that will do!" 

*'It has one merit of a good toast," answered the friond, a 
little doubtingly; "it is sententious." 

" As all toasts ought to be. If we are to have this dinner, 
and the speeches, and all the usual publications afterwards, I 
choose that we should appear with some little credit. Pray, sir," 
raising his eyes to his uncle, and his voice to correspond, " what 
do you think of it, now ?" 



14 THE wavs of the hour. 

'' Just as I always have, Jack. It will never do at all. Jui> 
ticc would halt miserably under sucli a system of pra3tice. Some 
jf the forms of pleadings are infernal, if pleadings they can be 
called at all. I detest even the names tliey give their proceed- 
ings — complaints and answers!'' 

"They arc certainly not as formidable to the ear/' returned 
Jack, a little saucily, "as rebutters and sur-rebutters. But 1 
vvas not thinking of iho code, sir; I was asking your opinion of 
my new toast.'' 

"Even a fee could not extract an opinion, unless I heard it 
read." 

" Well, sir, here it is : ' The constitution of the United States j 
the palladium of our civil and religious liberties.' Now, I do 
not think I can much better that, uncle Tom !" 

"I'm very sorry to hear you say so. Jack." 

" Why so, sir ? I 'm sure it is good American sentiment ; 
and what is more, it has a flavour of the old English principles 
that you so much admire, about it, too. Why do you dislike it, 
sir?" 

"For several reasons — it would be common-place, which a 
txist should never be, were it true; but there happens not to le 
a word of truth in your sentiment, sonorous as it may sound in 
your ears." 

" Not true ! Docs not the constitution guaranty to the citizcD 
rel igious liberty ? ' ' 

"Not a bit of it." 

"You amaze me, sir ! Why, here, just listen to its language, 
if you please." 

Hereupon Jack oi)ened a book, and read the clause on which 
he relied to confute one of the ablest constitutional lawyers and 
clearest heads in America. Not that Mr. Dunscomb was what 

15 called an "expounder," great or small; but he never made a 
mistake on the subject in hand, and had often caused the best of 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 16 

the "expounders" to retrace their steps. He wjis an ori<^inal 
thinker, but of the safest and most useful sort ; one who distin 
guished between the instilulions of England and America, while 
he submitted to the fair application of minor principles that are 
so common to both. As for his nephew, he knew no more of the 
great instrument he held in liI?? hand, than he had gleaned from 
ill-digested newspaper remarks, vapid speeches in Congress, and 
the erroneous notions that float about the country, coming from 
"nobody knows whom," and leading literally to nothing. The 
ignorance that prevails on such subjects is really astounding, when 
one remembers the great number of battles that are annually 
fought over this much-neglected compact. 

"Ay, here is the clause — just please to hear it, sir," continued 
Jack. — "'Congress shall make no law respecting an establish- 
ment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or 
abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right 
of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the govern- 
ment for a redress of grievances.' There, I think that will go 
far towards justifying the whole toast, Mike." 

This was.said a little triumphantly, and not a little conlidently 
The only answer Mr. Dunscomb condescended to make, was an 
expressive " Umph !" As for Michael Millington, he was a little 
timid about expressing an opinion, and that for two reasons; he 
had often experienced Mr. Dunscomb's superior wisdom, and he 
kLCW that Sarah heard all that passed. 

"I wish your uncle would lay aside that code for a minute, 
Jack, and let us know what he thinks of our authorities," said 
Michael, in an under tone. 

"Come, Uncle Tom," cried the more hardy nephew — "corne 
out of your reserve, and face the constitution of your country. 
Even Sarah can see that, for once, we are right, and that my 
toast is of proof." 

" It is a very good Tproof-sheet, Jack, not only of your owr 



16 THE WAYS OF THE H O LMl. 

mind, but of half the minds in the country. Ranker nonsense 
cannot be uttered, however, than to say that the Constitution of 
the United States is the palladium of anything in which civil oi 
religious liberty is concerned/' 

"You do not dispute the j&dclity of my quotation, sir?'' 

" By no means. The clause you read is a very useless exhibi 
tion of certain facts that existed just as distinctly before it wat 
framed, as they do to-day. Congress had no power to make ar. 
established religion, or abridge the freedom of speech, or that of 
the press, or the right of the people to petition, before that 
in)cndment was introduced, and consequently the clause itself is 
supererogatory. You take nothing by your motion. Jack." 

" I do not understand you, sir. To me, it seems that I have 
the best of it." 

" Congress has no power but what has been conceded to it 
directly, or by necessary connection. Now, there happens to bo 
nothing said about granting any such authority to Congress, and 
consequently the prohibition is not necessary. But, admitting 
that Congress did really possess the power to establish a religion 
previously to the adoption of this amendment, the constitution 
would not prove a palladium to religious liberty, unless it pro- 
hibited everybody else from meddling with the opinions of tlic 
citizen. Any state of this Union that pleases, may establish a 
religion, and compel its citizens to support it." 

"Why, sir, our own state •'constitution has a provision similar 
to this, to prevent it." 

" Very true ; but our own state constitution can be altered in 
this behalf, without asking permission of any one but our own 
people. I think that even Sarah will understand that the 
United States is no palladium of religious liberty, if it cannot 
prevent a state from establishing Mohamodanism, as soon as a 
few forms can be complied with." 

Sarah coloured, glanced timidly at Michael Millington, but 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 17 

made no reply. She did not understand mucli of what she had 
just heard, though rather an intelligent girl, but had hoped that 
Jack and his friend were nearer right than was likely to turn out 
to he the case. Jack, himself, being a young limb of the law 
comprehended what his uncle meant, and had the grace to colour, 
too, at the manner in which he had manifested his ignorance of 
the great national compact. With a view to relieve himself from 
his dilemma, he cried, with a ready dexterity, — 

"Well, since this won't do, I must try the jury. 'The trial 
by jury, the palladium of our liberties.' How do you like that, 
sir?'' 

" Worse than the other, boy. G-od protect the country that 
has no better shield against wrong, than that which a jury can 
hold before it." 

Jack looked at Michael, and Michael looked at Jack ; while 
Sarah looked at both in turn. 

" You surely will not deny, sir, that the trial by jury is one 
of the most precious of the gifts received from our ancestors?" 
said the first, % little categoricall}^, Sarah brightening up at this 
question, as he fancied that her brother had now got on solid 
ground. 

"Your question cannot be answered in a breath. Jack," re- 
turned the uncle. " The trial by jury teas undoubtedly a most 
precious boon bestowed on a people among whom there existed 
an hereditary ruling power, on the 'abuses of which it was often 
a most salutary check." 

"Well, sir, is it not the same check here; assuring to the 
citizens independent justice?" 

"Who compose the ruling power in America, Jack?" 

"The people, to be sure, sir." 

"And who the jurors?" 

"The people, too, I suppose," answered the nephew, hcsJttit- 
uig a little before he replied. 



18 T II E W A Y 8 O F THE 11 O U R. 

" Well, let us suppose a citizen has a conflict of fights with 
the public, which is the government, who will compose the tri- 
bunal that is to decide the question?'' 

" A jury, to be sure, sir. The trial by jury is guarantied b\ 
the constitution, to us all.'' 

"Ay," said Mr. Dunscomb, smiling, "much as are our reli- 
gious and political liberties. But according to your own admis- 
sion, this is very much like making one of the parties a judge iu 
Lis own case. A. insists that he has a right to certain lands, for 
instance, which the public claims for itself. In such a case, part 
of the public compose the tribunal." 

" But is it not true, Mr. Dunsoomb," put in Millington, 
" that the popular prejudice is usually against government, in all 
cases with private citizens ?" 

Sarah's face looked brighter now than ever, for she felt sure 
that Mike, as her brother familiarly called his friend, had asked 
a most apposite question. 

" Certainly ; you are right as to particular sets of cases, but 
vrrong as to others. In a commercial town like this, the feeling 
is against government in all cases connected with the collection 
of the revenue, I admit; and you will see that the fact makes 
against the trial by jury in another form, since a judge ought tc 
be strictly impartial ; above all prejudice whatever." 

"But, uncle, a judge and a jury are surely very different 
things," cried Sarah, secretly impelled to come to Michael's 
rescue, though she scarce knew anything of the merits of tho 
subject. 

" Quite right, my dear," the uncle answered, nodding his head 
kindly, casting a glance at his niece tliat caused her to blush un- 
der the consciousness of being fully understood in her motives, 
if not in her remark. "Most profoundly right; a judge and a 
juror ought to be very different things. What I most complain 
)f is the fact that the jurors are fast becoming judges. Nay^ hy, 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 19 

(jeor^e, they are getting to be legislators, making the law as well 
as interpreting it. How often does it happen, now-a-days, that 
the court tell the jury that such is the law, and the jury cemes 
in with a verdict which tells the court that such is not the law ? 
This is an every-day occurrence, in the actual state of public 
opinion/' 

" But the court will order a new trial, if the verdict is against 
lav/ and evidence, '^ said Michael, determined that Sarah should 
be sustained. 

^^ Ay, and another jury will be quite likely to sustain the old 
one. No — no — the trial by jury is no more a palladium of our 
liberties, than the Constitution of the United States " 

"Who, or what is, then, sir?'' demanded Jack. 

" God ! Yes, the Deity, in his Divine Providence ; if any- 
thing is to save us. It may not be his pleasure to let us perish, 
for it would seem that some great plan for the advancement of 
civilization is going on, and it may be a part of it to make us 
important agents. All things regarded, I am much inclined to 
believe such is the fact. But, did the result depend on us, 
miserable instruments in the Almighty hands as we are, woeful 
would be the end!" 

"You do not look at things couleur de rose, Uncle Tom,'' 
Sarah smilingly observed. 

" Because I am not a young lady of twenty, who is well satis- 
fied with herself and her advantages. There is but one character 
for which I have a greater contempt than that of a senseless 
grumbler, who regards all 'things a tort et a travers, and who 
cries, there is nothing good in the world." 

"And what is the exception, sir?" 

"The man who is puffed up with conceit, and fancies all 
around him perfection, when so much of it is the reverse; 
who ever shouts ^liberty,' in the midst of the direst oppres- 



20 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 



" But direst oppression is certainly no term to be applied tc 
anything in New York !" 

" You think not ? What would you say to a state of society 
in which the law is available to one class of citizens only, in the 
way of compulsion, and not at all, in the way of protection?" 

^'I do not understand you, sir; here, it is our boast that all 
are protected, alike.*' 

"Ay, so far as boasting goes, we are beyond reproach But 
what are the facts ? Here is a man that owes money. The law 
is appealed to, to compel payment. Verdict is rendered, and 
execution issued. The sheriff enters his house, and sells hia 
very furniture, to extort the amount of the debt from him.'* 

" That is his misfortune, sir. Such things must happen to all 
debtors who cannot, or will not, pay." 

" If this were true, I should have nothing to say. Imagine 
this very debtor to be also a creditor ; to have debts due to him, 
of many times the sums that he owes, but which the law will r^ot 
aid him in collecting. For him, the law is all oppression — no 
protection.'' 

"But, surely. Uncle Tom, nothing of the sort exists here I" 

" Surely, Miss Sarah Wilmeter, such things do exist here in 
practice, whatever may be the theory on the subject; what is 
more, they exist under the influence of facts that are directly con- 
nected with the working of the institutions. My case is not sup 
posititious, at all, but real. Several landlords have quite recently 
felt all the rigours of the law as debtors, when it was a dead letter 
to them, in their character of creditol-s. This has actually hap- 
pened, and that more than once ; and it might happen a hundred 
times, were the landlords more in debt. In the latter case, it 
would be an every-day occurrence." 

"What, sir," exclaimed Michael Millington; "the lavr en- 
force, when it will not protect?" 

"That it does, young man, in many interests that I could 



THE WATS OF THE HOUR. Hi 

point out to you. But here is as flagrant a case of unmitigated 
tyranny as can be cited against any country in Christendom. A 
citizen is sold out of house and home, under process of law, for 
debt; and when he asks for the use of the same process of law 
to collect his undeniable dues, it is, in effect, denied him. And 
this among the people who boast that their independence i<i 
derived from a spirit that would not be taxed ! A people who 
are hourly shouting hosannas in honour of their justice !" 

"It cannot be, Uncle Tom, that this is done, in terms," cried 
the astounded nephew. 

" If, by terms, you mean professions of justice, and liberty, 
and equal rights, they are fair enough ; in all those particulars 
we are irreproachable. As ^professors' no people can talk more 
volubly or nearer to the point — I allude only to facts." 

"But these facts may be explained — qualified — are not aa 
flagrant as they seem under your statement ?" 

"In what manner?" 

""Why, sir, this is but a temporary e\dl, perhaps." 

"It has lasted, not days, nor weeks, nor months, but yeai&. 
What is more, it is an evil that has not occurred in a corner, 
where it might be overlooked; but it exists within ten miles of 
your capital, in plain sight of your legislators, and owes its im- 
punity solely to their profound deference to votes. In a word, 
it is a part of the political system under which we live ; and that 
far more so than any disposition to tyranny that might happen to 
manifest itself in an individual king." 

" Do not the tenants who refuse to pay, fancy that their land- 
lords have no right to their estates, and does not the whole diffi- 
culty arise from misapprehension ?" asked Michael, a little 
timidly. 

" What would that have to do with the service of process, if it 
were true ? When a sheriff ^s officer comes among these men, 
they take his authority from Jiim, and send him away empty. 



22 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

Rights are to be determined only by the law, since they arc 
derived from the law ; and he who meets the law at the threshold; 
and denies it entrance, can never seriously pretend that he resists 
because the other party has no claims. No, no, young gentle- 
man — this is all a fetch. The evil is of years' standing ; it is of 
the character of the direst oppression, and of oppression of the 
worst sort, that of many oppressing a few ; cases in which the 
b'ufferer is cut oflf from sympathy, as you can see by the apathy 
of the community, which is singing hosannas to its own perfec- 
tion, while this great wrong is committed under its very nose. 
Kad a landlord oppressed his tenants, their clamour would have 
made itself heard throughout the land. The worst feature in 
the case, is that which connects the whole thing so very obviously 
with the ordinary working of the institutions. If it were merely 
humjm covetousness struggling against the institutions, the last 
might prove the strongest ; but it is cupidity, of the basest and 
most transparent nature, us'mg the institutions themselves to 
effect its purpose.'' 

" I am surprised that something was not done by the last con- 
vention to meet the evil !" said Jack, who was much struck with 
the enormity of the wrong, placed before his eyes in its simplest 
form, as it had been by his direct-minded and clear-headed 
kinsman. 

" That is because you do not know what a convention has got 
to be. Its object is to push principles into impracticable ex- 
tremes, under the silly pretension of progress, and not to abate 
evils. I made a suggestion myself, to certain members of that 
convention, which, in my poor judgment, would have effectually 
3ured this disease ; but no member had the courage to propose it 
Doubtless, it would have been useless had it been otherwise." 

" It was worth the trial, if such were likely to be its result. 
What was your plan, sir?" 

'^ Simply to disfranchise any district in which the law could 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 2'S 

not be enforced by means of combinations of its people. On 
application to the highest court of the state, an order might bo 
granted that no polls should be held in one, or more, towns, or 
counties, in which combinations existed of a force sufficient to 
prevent the laws from being put in force. Nothing could be 
more just than to say that men who will not obey the law shall 
not have a voice in making it, and to me it really seems that 
some such provision would be the best possible expedient to 
check this growing evil. It would be choking the enemy with 
his own food.'' 

" Why was it not done, sir ?'' 

" Simply because our sages were speculating on votes, and not 
on principles. They will talk to you like so many books touch- 
ing the vices of all foreign systems, but are ready to die in de- 
fence of the perfection of their own.'' 

" Why was it necessary to make a new constitution, the other 
day," asked Sarah, innocently, "if the old one was so very 
excellent?" 

" Sure enough — the answer might puzzle wiser heads than 
yours, child. Perfection requires a great deal of tinkering, in 
this country. We scarcely adopt one plan that shall secure 
everybody's rights and liberties, than another is broached, to 
secure some newly-discovered rights and liberties. With the 
dire example before them, of the manner in which the elective 
franchise is abused, in this anti-rent movement, the sages of the 
land have just given to the mass the election of judges ; as beau- 
tiful a scheme for making the bench coalesce with the jury-box 
as human ingenuity could invent !" 

As all present knew that Mr. Dunscomb was bitterly opposed 
to the new constitution, no one was surprised at this last asser- 
tion. It did create wonder, however, in the minds of all three 
of the ingenuous young persons, when the fact — an undeniable 
and most crushing one it is, too, so far as any high pretension to , 



24 THE WAV S Oh' THE HOUR. 

true liberty is concerned — was plainly laid before tli^m, thut 
citizens were to be found in New York against whom the law 
was rigidly enforced, wiiile it was powerless in tbeir behalf. 
We have never known this aspect of the case presented to any 
mind, that it did not evidently produce a deep impression, fo7 
the moment; but, alas! "what is everybody's business is no 
body's business," and few care for the violation of a principle 
when the wrong does not affect themselves. These young folk 
were, like all around them, unconscious even that they dwelt in 
a community in which so atrocious a wrong was daily done, and, 
for the moment, were startled when the truth was placed before 
their eyes. The young men, near friends, and, by certain signs, 
likely to be even more closely united, were much addicted to 
speculating on the course of events, as they conceived them to 
be tending, in other countries. Michael Millington, in par- 
ticular, was a good deal of a general politician, having delivered 
several orations, in which he had laid some stress on the greater 
happiness of the people of this much favoured land, over those 
of all other countries, and especially on the subject of equal 
rights. He was too young, yet, to have learned the wholesome 
truth, that equality of rights, in practice, exists nowhere; the 
ingenuity and selfishness of man finding the means to pervert to 
narrow purposes, the most cautious laws that have ever been 
adopted in furtherance of a principle that would seem to be sc 
just. Nor did he know that the Bible contains all the wisdom 
and justice, transmitted as divine precepts, that are necessary 
to secm-e to every man all that it is desirable to possess hcr€ 
below. 

The conversation was terminated by the entrance of a fourtli 
colloquist, in the person of Edward McBrain, M. D., who was 
iiot only the family physician, but the bosom friend of the 
lawyer. The two liked each other on the principle of loving 
their opposites. Oue was a bachelor, the other was about to 



THE AV^AYR OF THK HOUR. 25 

marry his thii'd wife ; one was a little of a cyniC; the other much 
uf a philanthropist ; one distrustful of human natui-e, the other 
too confiding ; one cautious to excess^ the other absolutely im- 
petuous, whenever anything strongly interested his feelings. 
They were alike in being Manhattanese by birth, somewhat a 
novelty in a New Yorker ; in being equally graduates of Colum- 
bia, and classmates; in a real love of their fellow-creatures; 
in goodness of heart, and in integrity. Had either been want- 
ing in these last greiit essentials; the otlier could not have 
endured hiui. 

2 



20 T H E W A Y S O F T H K n O U R. 



OHAFTER 11. 

O cliange! — stupendous cJiaTicfd 

Tliere lies the soulless 'jlud ; 
The sun eternal breaks — 
The new immortal wakes — 

Wakes with his God. 

Mrs. Southey. 

As Dr. McBrain entered the room, the two youug men and 
Siirali, after saluting him like very familiar acquaintfluces, passed 
out into what the niece called her "garden.'' Here she imme- 
diately set her scissors at work in clipping roses, violets, and 
other early flowers, to nuike bouquets for her companions. That 
of JMichael was much the largest and most tasteful; but this her 
brother did not remark, as he was in a brown study, reflecting 
on the sing-ularity of the circumstance that the Constitution of 
the United States should not be the " palladium of his political 
and religious liberties/' Jack saw, for the fii'st tune in his life, 
that a true knowledge of the constitution was not to be found 
floating about in society, and that "there was more in the 
nature of the great national compact than was dreamt of in his 
philosophy." 

"Well, Ned," said iho la^^^er, holding out his hand kindly 
but not rising from his chair, "what has brought you here so 
early? Has old Miu-tha spoilt your tea?" 

"Not at all; I have paid this visit, as it might be, pro- 
fessionally." 

" IVofessionally ! I never was betler in my life ; luid not you 



THK WAYS OF THE HOUR. 27 

do^\^l as a false prophet, or no doctor, if you like tliat better, for 
ilic gout has not even given a premonitory hint, this si)ri)i<.^; and 
I hope, now I have given up Sautcrne altogether, and take bui 
four glasses of Madeira at dinner ' ' 

"Two. too many.'' 

"I '11 engage to drink nothing but sherry, Ned. if you '11 eon- 
Bent to four, and that without any of those forbidding looks." 

"Agreed; sherry has less acidity, and conseijuently less gout, 
than ]Mad(!ira. But my business here this morning, though 
professional, does not relate to my craft, but to your own.' 

" To the law ? Now I take another look at you, I do sec 
trouble in your physiognomy; am I not to draw the marriage 
settlements, after all ?" 

"There arc to be none. The new law gives a woman the 
entire control of all her property, they tell me, and I suppose 
she will not expect the control of mine." 

" Umph ! Yes, she ought to be satisfied with things as thv^y 
are, for she will remain mistress of all her cups and saucers, 
even, — ay, and of her houses and lands, in the bargain. Hang 
me, if I would ever marry, when the contract is so one- 
Bided." 

" You never did, when the contract was t' other-sided. For 
n.y part, Tom, I 'm disposed to leave a woman mistress of her 
own. The experiment is worth the trial, if it be only to sec the 
use she will make of her money." 

" You are always experimenting among the women, and are 
about to try a third wife. Thank Heaven, I 've got on sixtj 
years, quite comfortably, without even one." 

"You have only half lived your life. No old bachelor — 
meaning a man after forty — knows anything of real happiness, 
[t is necessary to be married, in order to be truly happy." 

"I wonder you did not add, Uwo or three times.' But you 
Qiay make this new contract with greater confidence than either 



'JS T 11 IJ WAYS OF T HE II O U K. 

:)1' the others. 1 sui^poso you have seen tliis new divorce project 
that is, or has been, before the legishiture ?'' 

" Divorce ! I trust no such foolish law will ptuss. This calb 
ing uKUTinge a ^contract/ too, is what I never liked. It ia 
something far more than a 'contract/ in my view of the 
matter." 

"Slill, that is what the law considers it to be. Get out of 
iliis new scrape, Ned, if you can with any honoiu", and remain 
an independent freeman for the rest of your days. I dare say 
the widow could soon fuid some other amorous youth to place 
her affections on. It matters not much whom a woman loves, 
provided she love. Of this, I 'm certain, from seeing the sort 
i,f animals so many do love.'' 

" Nonsense ; a bachelor talking of love, or .matrimony, usually 
makes a zany of himself. It is terra Incognila to you, my boy, 
and the less you say about it, the better. You arc the only 
human being, Tom, I ever met with, who has not, some time or 
other, been in love. I really believe you never knew wdiat the 
passion is.'' 

" I fell in love, early in life, with a certain my lord Coke, and 
have remained true to my first attachment. Besides, I saw I 
had an intimate friend who would do all the maiTying that was 
necessary for two, or even for three j so I determined, from the 
fii-st, to remain single. A man has only to be fij-m, and he may 
set Cupid at defiance. It is not so with women, I do believe j it 
is part of their nature to love, else would no woman admire you, 
at your time of life," 

" I don 't know that — I am by no means sure of that. Each 
time I had the misfortune to become a widower, I was just as 
determined to pass the remainder of my days in reHecting on the 
worth of her I had lost, as you can be to remain a bachelor; but 
riomehow or other, I don't pretend to account for it, not a ycai 
passed before 1 have found inducements to cuter into new en 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 2i) 

c^gements. It is a blcssod thing, is matrimony, and 1 am 
resolved not to continue single an liour longer than is ne- 
cessary/' 

Dunscomb laughed out, at tlie earnest manner in wl/it;h liia 
friend spoke, though conversations, like this wo have been relat- 
ing, were of frequent occurrence between them. 

" The same old sixpence, Ned ! A Benedict as a boy, a Bene- 
dict as a man, and a Benedict as a dotard " 

" Dotard ! My good fellow, let me tell you '* 

" Poh ! I don't desire to hear it. But as you came on busi- 
ness connected with the law, and that business is not a marriage- 
settlement, what is it ? Docs old Kingsborough maintain his 
right to the Harlem lot?'' 

" No, he has given the claim up, at last. My business, Tom, 
is of a very different nature. What are we coming to, and what 
is to be the end of it all !" 

As the doctor looked far more than he expressed, Dunscomb 
was struck with his manner. The Siamese twins scarce under- 
stand each other's impulses and wishes better than these two 
men comprehended each other's feelings ; and Tom saw at once 
that Ned was now very much in earnest. 

"Coming to?" repeated Dunscomb. "Do you mean the 
new code, or the ' Woman-hold-thc-Purse Law,' as I call it? I 
don't believe you look far enough ahead to foresee all the dam- 
nable consequences of an elective judiciary." 

" It is not that — this, or that — I do not mean codos^ conHtita- 
tions, or pin-money. What is the counlry 3oming to, Tom Duns- 
Ci>mb — that is the question, I ask." 

" Well, and has the country nothing to do with constitutions, 
codes, and elective judges ? I can tell you, Master Ned McBrain, 
M. D., that if the patient is to be saved at all, it must bo by 
means of the judiciary, and I do not like the advice that has just 
oeen sailed in." 



^0 TH E WAY S OF Til E PI O UR. 

" You are a croaker. They tell me the new judges are rea- 
sonably good/' 

" ^ lleasonably' is an expressive word. The new judges arc 
old judges, in part, and in so much they do pretty well, by 
cliance. Some of the new judges are excellent — but one of the 
very best men on the whole bench was run against one of the 
worst men who could have been put in his place. At the next 
heat I fear the bad fellow will get the track. If you do not 
mean what I have mentioned, what do you mean?'' 

" I mean the increase of crime — the murders, arsons, roh- 
beries, and other abominations that seem to take root among us, 
like so many exotics transplanted to a genial soil." 

" ^ Exotics' and ^ genial' be hanged ! Men are alike every- 
where. No one but a fool ever supposed that a republic is to 
stand, or fall, by its virtue." 

" Yet, the common opinion is that such must be the final test 
of our institutions." 

" Jack has just been talking nonsense on this subject, and 
now you must come to aid him. But, what has your business 
with mc, this morning, to do with the general depreciation in 
morals?" 

" A great deal, as you will allow, when you come to hear my 
story." 

Dr. McBrain then proceeded forthwith to deliver him'self of 
the matter which weighed so heavily on his mind. He was the 
owner of a small place in an adjoining county, where it was his 
custom to pass as much time, during the pleasant months, as a 
very extensive practice in town would allow. This was not 
much, it is true, though the worthy physician so contrived 
matters, that his visits to Timbully, as the place was called, if 
not long, were tolerably numerous. A kind-hearted, as well aa 
a reasonably-affluent nun , he never denied his professional ser- 
vices to his country neighbours, who eagerly asked his advi.,e 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUK. 31 

whenever there was need of it. This portion of the doctor'? 
practice flourished on two accounts, — one being his known skill, 
and the other his known generosity. In a word, Dr. McBrain 
never received any compensation for his advice, from any in the 
immediate neighbourhood of his country residence. This ren- 
dered him exceedingly popular ; and he might have been sent to 
Albany, but for a little cold water that was thrown on the pro- 
ject by a shrewd patriot, who suggested that while the physician 
was attending to affairs of state, he could not be administering 
to the ailings of his Timbully neighbours. This may have 
checked the doctor's advancement, but it did not impair his 
popularity. 

Now, it happened that the bridegroom-expectant had been out 
to Timbully, a distance of less than fifteen miles from his house 
in Bleecker street, with a view to order matters for the reception 
of the bride, it being the intention of the couple that were soon 
to be united to pass a few days there, immediately after the cere- 
mony was performed. It was while at his place, attending to 
this most important duty, that an express came from the county 
town, requiring his presence before the coroner, where he was 
expected to give his evidence as a medical man. It seems that & 
house had been burned, and its owners, an aged couple, had 
been burnt in it. The remains of the bodies had been found, 
and an inquest was about to be held on them. This was pretty 
much all that the messenger could tell, though he rather thought 
that it was suspected the house had been set on fire, and the old 
people, consequently, murdered. 

As a matter of course. Dr. McBrain obeyed the summons. A 
county town, in America, is often little more than a handet, 
though in New York the;y ttre usually places of some greater pro- 
tensions. The state has now near a dozen incorporated cities, 
with their mayors and aldermen, and with one exception, we be- 
lieve these are all county towns. Then come the incorporat^jd 



•52 T H K WAYS OK Til K ir () II It. 

villages, in w]ii('h Now York is fust getting to l)e rich, plaocd 
containing from one to six or sovcn thousand souls, and which,^ 
'.IS a rule, arc steadily growing into respectable provincial towns. 
Tlie largest of these usually contain "the county buildings/' i\8 
it is the custom to express it. JJut, in the older counties, i?i::nc- 
diately around the great commercial capital of the entire r(>public, 
these large villagt's do not always exist; or when they do exist, 
arc not sullieienlly central to meet the transcendental justice of 
democratic ccjuality — a quality that is sometimes of as exacticg 
pretension, as of real imbecility; as witness the remarks of Mr 
J)unscomb, in our opening chapter. 

The county buildings of happen to stand in a Bniall 

village, or what is considered a small village, in the lower part of 
the state. As the event^s of this tale arc so recent, and the 
localities so familiar to niaiiy p(n-sons, we choose to call this vil- 
lago "]Jiberry,'' and the county "Dukes.'' Such was once the 
name of a New York county, though the appellation has been 
dropped, ;uid this not from any i)articular distaste for the straw- 
berry leaves; " Kings," " Queens," and "Duchess" having been 
wis(^ly retained — wisely, as names should be as randy changed 
hs ])ublic convenience will allow. 

Dr. McBrain found the village of JJiberry in a high state of 
excitement; one, indeed, of so intense a nature as to be far from 
favourable to the judicial enquiry that was then going on in the 
court-house. I'he old eoujde who were the sullerers in this ailaii 
h:id been much resjiected by all who knew them ; he as a common- 
place, well-meaning man, of no particular capacity, and she mi 
a managing, discreet, pious woman, whose gi'catest failing was :i 
neatness that was carried somewhat too near to ferocity. Never 
tholess, Mrs. (loodwiu was, generally, even more respected than 
her husband, for she had tbe most mind, transacted most of the 
i)usiuess of the family, and was habitually kind and attentive to 
every one who entered lier d\veHiui]i;; provider, always, that they 



T II E w A y S OF in E II () V R. 33 

sv'iped their feet on licr mats, of wliicli it was necessary to pass 
no less than six, before the little parlour was reached, and did 
not spit on her carpet, or did not want any of her money. This 
popularity added greatly to tlie excitement; men, and, women 
also, commonly feeling a stronger desire to investigate wrongs 
done to those they esteem, thnn to investigate wrongs done to 
tliose concerning whom they are indilTerent. 

Doctor Mcl^rain found the charred remains of this unfortunate 
couple laid on a table in the court-house, the coroner in attend- 
ance, and a jury empanelled. Much of the evidence concerning 
the discovery of tlie fire had been gone through with, and was 
of a very simple chnvacter. Some one who was stirring earlier 
than common had seen the house in a bright blaze, liad given 
the alarm, and had preceded the crowd from the village, on the 
road to the burning dwelling. The Goodwins had resided in a 
neat, retired cottage, at the distiince of near two miles from 
I^iberry, though in sight from the village ; and by the time the 
first man from the latter reached tlie spot, the roof had fallen in, 
a*nd the materials were mostly consumed. A dozen, or more, of 
the nearest neighbours were collected around the ruins, and 
some articles of household furniture had been saved ; but, oji the 
whole, it was regarded as one of the most sudden and destructive 
fires ever known in that part of the country. When the engine 
arrived from the villager, it played briskly on the fire, and was 
the means of soon reducing all wilhin the outer walls, which 
were of stone, to a pile of blackened and smouhlering wood. It 
was owing to this circumstance that any portion of the remains 
of the late owners of the house had been found, as was done in 
the manner thus described, in his testimony, by Peter Bacon, the 
person who had^first given the alarm in ]5iberry. 

"As soon as ever I seed it was Peter Goodwin's house that 
made the light," continued this intelligent witness, in the course 
of his examination, — " I guv' the alarm, and started oflf on the 



34 THE "W A Y S O F T 11 E 110 U II. 

rnn^ to sec what I could do. By the lime I got to tl.c top of 
JJrudlcr's Ilill, I v/as fairly out of breath, I can tell you, JMr. 
Coroner and Gentlemen of the Jury, and so I was obliged to 
pull up <i bit. This guv' the fire a so much better sweep, and 
when I reached the spot, there was little chance for doing much 
good. We got out a chest of drawers, and the young woman 
who boarded with the Goodwins was helped down out of the 
window, and most of her clothes, I b'lieve, was saved, bo far as I 
know." 

" Stop," interrupted the coroner; '' there wa,s a young woman 
in the house, you say." 

" Yes ; what I call a young woman, or a gal like ; though 
other some calls her a young woman. Waal, she was got out ; 
and her clothes was got out; but nobody could get out the old 
folks. As soon as the ingyne come up we turned on the water, 
and that put out the fire about the quickest, Arter that we went 
to diggin', and soon found what folks call the remains, though 
to my notion there is little enough on 'cm that is left." 

"You dug out the reiuains," said the coroner, writing; "in 
what state did you find them?" 

" In what I call a pretty poor state ; much as you sec 'em 
there, on the table." 

" What has become of the young ladi/ you have mentioned?" 
pnquircd the coroner, who, as a public functionary, deemed it 
prudent to put all of the sex into the same general category. 

" I can't tell you, 'scpiire,; I never see'd her arter she was gr)t 
out of the window." 

" Do you mean that she was the hired-girl of the family, — or 
had the old lady no help ?" 

" I kinder think she w^as a boarder, like ; o^e that paid her 
kecpin'," answered the witness, who was not a person to draw 
very nice distinctions, as the reader will have no diificulty in 
jonceiving, from his dialect. " It seems to me I lieer'n tell of 



Til E WA Y S O F Til E HOUR. Jib 

another help in the Coodwiii family — ii S(ntcr Jurnian, or Irish 
lady/' 

" Was any such woman seen about the hou.so this moruing, 
when the ruins were searched V 

"Not as I'ncr. We turned over the brands and sticks, until 
welcome across the old folks j then everybody seemed to think 
the work was pretty much done." 

"In what state, or situation, were these remains found?" 

"Burnt to a crisp, just as you sec 'em, 'scjuire, ha I i^aiil 
afore; a pretty poor state for human beings to be in." 

" But where were they lying, and were they near each other V 

" Close together. Their heads, if a bo<]y can c;dl them black 
lookin' skulls heads, at all, almost touched, if they didn't ({uito 
touch, each other; their feet lay further apart." 

"Do you think you could i)lace the skeletons in the same 
manner, as respects each other, as they were when you first saw 
them ? But lot me first enquire, if any other person is j)reHent, 
who saw these remains before they had been reniovedr' 

Several men, and one or two women, who were in attendance 
to be examined, now came forward, and stated that they had 
seen the remains in the condition in which they had been origin- 
ally found. Selecting the most intelligent of the party, after 
questioning them all round, the coroner desired that the skeletons 
might be laid, as near as might be, in the same relative positions 
as those in which they had been found. 'JMiere wus a difference 
of opinion among the witnesses, as to several of the minor i>ar- 
ticulars, though all admitted that the bodies, or what remainc;.! 
of them, had been found quite close together ; their heads touch 
ing, and their feet some little distance apart. In this manner 
then, Avcre the skelelons now disposed; the arrangement being 
completed just as Dr. INJc-Urain entered the court-room. U'ho 
coroner immediately directed the witnesses to stand ;usidc, while 
^he physician made un examination of the crisped bones. 



'iid T n K W A Y 3 O ]■' T II K I( O V K. 

" 'J'liis looks like foul })l:iy V' vxchhucd tlic doctor, almost ;i.s 
R>on as liis cxauiiiialiou couinieiK'cd. " I'hc skullb" oi" both thcso 
persons have been fraetured ; and, if lliis bo anything near tlie 
positions in wliieli tbe skeletons were found, as it would secn>, 
hy the same blow/' 

He then pointed out to the coroner and jury, a small fftic- 
turc in the frontal bone of each skull, and so nearly in a line us 
to render his conjecture highly ])r()bable. This discovery gave 
nn entirely new colouring to the whole occurrence, and ever}'^ ono 
present began tos]>eculate on the probability of arson and murder 
Ix'ing c()jnuH!led witli the nnfortun;ile aifair. The Goodwins 
were known to have lived at their e;isc, and the good woman, iu 
particular, had the reputation of being a little miserly. As 
everything like order vanished temporarily from the court-room, 
ivnd tongues were going in all directions, many things were 
related that- Avore really of a suspicious character, especially by 
the women. The coroner adjourned the investigation for the 
convcuicncc of irregular conversation, in order to obtain iipcful 
clues to the succeeding enquiries. 

"You say that old Mrs. Goodwin had a good deal of specie?" 
enquired tliat functionary of a certain IMrs. ]\)pe, a widow woman 
who had been free with her coinniunieations, and who very well 
might know more than the rest of the neighbours, from a very 
active propensity she had ever manifested, to look into the affairs 
of all around her. " Did T understand you, that you had seen 
this money yourself." 

" Yes, sir; often and often. She kept it in a stocking of the 
old gentleman's, that was nothing but darns; so darny, like, that 
nobod}' could wear it IMiss (uHxlwin wasn't a woman to put 
aUTjy anything that was of use. A clusser body wasn't to bo 
found, anywhere m\ir J>iberry.'^ 

"And some of this money was gold, T thiidv I heard yoQ say. 
A htoeking ])retty ^vell filled with gold and silver." 



THE WAYS () h' T II K H () U it. 37 

"The foot was craniining full, wlicn I saw it, and thai wasn't 
throe months since. I can't say there was any gi-eat matter in 
the leg. Yes, there was gold in it, too. She showed me the 
Btocking the last time I saw it, on purpose. to ask me what might 
be the valie of a piece of gold that was almost as big as half 
ardollar/' 

" Should you know that piece of gold, were you to sec it, 
pgain?'' 

"That I should. I didn't know its name^ or its valie, for J 
never seed so big a piece afore, but I told Miss Goodwin 1 
thought it must be ra'al Califoriiy. Them's about now, they 
tell me, and I hope poor folks will come in for their share. Old 
as I am — that is, not so very old neither — but such as I am, 1 
never had a piece of gold in my life." 

" You cannot tell, then, the name of this particular coin?" 

"I couldn't; if I was to have it for the telling, I couldn't. 
It wasn't a five dollar piece; that I know, for the old lady had 
a good many of them, and Ihis was much larger, and yellower, 
too; better gold, I conclude." 

The coroner was accustomed to garrulous, sight--jeeing fcinales, 
and knew how to huuuMir them. 

*^ Where did Mrs. Goodwin keep her specie?" he enquired. 
"If you saw her put the stocking away, you must know its usual 
place of de})osit." 

"Jn her chest of drawers," answered the woman eagerly. 
" That very chest of drawers Avhich was got out of the house, as 
Bound as the day it went into it, and has been brought down into 
the village fn- safe keeping." 

All this was so, and measures were taken to push the investi- 
gation further, and in that direction. Three or four young men, 
willing volunteers in suclj a cause, brought the bureau into the 
court-room, and the coroner directed that each of the drawers 
Bhould be publicly opened, in the presence of the jurors. Th ? 



S8 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

widow was first sworn, however, and testified regularly to the 
matter of the stocking, the money, and the place of usual deposit. 

"Ah! you '11 not find it there,'' observed Mrs. Pope, as the 
village cabinet-maker applied a key, the wards of which happened 
to fit those of the locks in question. " She kept her money in 
the lowest draw of all. I 've seen her take the stocking out, 
first and last, at least a dozen times." 

The lower draw was opened, accordingly. It contained female 
apparel, and a goodly store of such articles as were suited to the 
wants of a respectable woman in the fourth or fifth of the grada- 
tions into which all society so naturally, and unavoidably, divides 
itself. But there was no stocking full of darns, no silver, no 
gold. Mrs. Pope's busy and nimble fingers were thrust hastily 
into an inner corner of the drawer, and a silk dress was uncere- 
moniously opened, that having been the precise receptacle of the 
treasure as she had seen it last bestowed. 

" It 's gone !" exclaimed the woman. " Somebody must have 
taken it!" 

A great deal was now thought to be established. The broken 
skulls, and the missing money, went pear to establish a case of 
murder and robbery, in addition to the high crime of arson. 
Men, who had worn solemn and grave countenances all that 
morning, now looked excited and earnest. The desire for a 
requiting justice was general and active, and the dead became 
doubly dear, by means of their wrongs. 

All this time Dr. McBrain had been attending, exclusively, to 
the part of the subject that most referred to his own profeseion. 
Of the fractures in the two skulls, he was well assured, though 
the appearance of the remains was such as almost to bafl9e inves- 
tigation. Of another important fiict he was less certain. While 
all he heard prepared him to meet with the skeletons of a man 
and his wife, so fiir as he could judge, in the imperfect state in 
which they were laid before him, the bones were those of two 
females. 



THE WAY S O F Til E H O U R. 39 

^'Did you know this Mr. Goodwin^ Mr. Coroner J"' enquired 
filie physician^ breaking into the more regular examination with 
very little ceremony ; " or was he well known to any here V 

The coroner had no very accurate knowledge of the deceased, 
though every one of the jurors had been well acquainted with 
him. Several had known him all their lives. 

" Was he a man of ordinary size V asked the doctor. 

"Very small. Not taller than his wife, who might be set 
down as quite a tall old lady.'^ 

It often happens in Europe, especially in England, that the 
man andAis wife are so nearly of a height as to leave very little 
sensible difference in their statures ; but it is a rare occurrence 
in this country. In America, the female is usually delicate, and 
of a compai'atively small frame, while the average height of man 
is something beyond that of the European standard. It was a 
little out of the common way, therefore, to meet with a couple 
so nearly of a size, as these remains would make Goodwin and 
his wife to have been. 

" These skeletons ai-e very nearly of the same length,'' re- 
sumed the doctor, aft«r measuring them for the fifth time. " The 
man could not have been much, if any, taller than his wife." 

•' He was not,'^ answered a juror. " Old Peter Goodwin 
could not have been more than five feet five, and Dorothy was all 
of that, I should think. When they came to meeting together, 
they looked much of a muchness." 

Now, there is nothing on which a prudent and regular phy- 
eiclan is more cautious than in committing himself on unknown 
and uncertain ground. He has his theories, and his standard 
of opinions, usually well settled in his mind, and he is ever on 
vhe alert to protect and bolster them ; seldom making any ad- 
mission that may contravene either. He is apt to denounce the 
water cure, however surprising may have been its effects; and 
there is commonly but one of the '^opathies" to which he is in 



40 T U K W A Y S U V T II K U () V H. 

tlio Iciust dii^posod to defer, and that is the particular '^opathy'* 
on which he has nioidded his practice. As for Dr. McHrain, ho 
behmged strictly to the ahipathic school, and might be termed 
almost an nltra in his adlunvnee to its laws, Avhile the number 
of the new schools that were springing nj) around him, taught 
hilt cantion, as well as great prudence, in the expression of his 
oj)iuions. Ciive him a patient, and he went to work boldly, and 
with the decision and nerve of a physician accustomed to practise 
iu an Dxaggerated climate ; but place him before the pubHe, as a 
theoretical man, and he was timid and wary. His friend Duns- 
comb had observed this peculiarity, thirty years beforj^the com- 
mencement of our tale, and had quite recently told him, '' You 
are bold in the only thing in which I am timid, Ned, and that 
is in making up to the women. If IMrs, Updyke were a new- 
fangled theory, now, instead of an old-fashioned widow, as she 
is, hang me if I think you would have ever had the spirit to 
propose." This peculiarity of temperament, and, jx'rhaps, we 
might add of character, rendered Dr. IMcDrain, now, very averse 
to saying, in the face of so nuich probability, and the statements 
of so many witnesses, that the nuitilated and charred skeletons 
that lay on the court-house table were those of two femides, and 
not those of a man and his wife. It was certainly possible ho 
might b(^ mistaken ; l\)r the conilagTation liad made sad work of 
these poor end)lems of mortality; but science has a clear eye, 
and the doctor was a skilful and practised anatomist. 1\. his 
own mind, there were very few doubts on the subject. 

As sojn as the thoughtful physician found time to turn his 
nttention on the countenances of those who composed the crowd 
in the court-room, he observed that nearly all eyes wnn'e bent on 
the person of one particular female, who sat apart, and was 
seemingly labouring under a shock of some sort or other, that 
materially' alVoctod her nerves. ]Mcl>rain saw, at a glance, that 
this person belonged to a class every way superior to that of 



Til E WA y S O F T H K HOUR. 41 

evcu tlio Ugliest of those who pressed around the table. The 
fiicc was concealed in a handkerchief, but the form was not only 
youthful but highly attractive. Small, delicate hands and feet 
could be seen ; such hands and feet as we are all accustomed to 
Bee in an American girl, who has been delicately brought up. 
Her dress was simple, and of studied modesty; but there wjw 
an air about that, which a little surprised the kind-hearted indi- 
vidual, who was now so closely observing her. 

The doctor had little difficulty in learning from those near 
him that this "young woman,'' so all in the crowd styled her, 
though it was their practice to term most girls, however humble 
their condition, "ladies," had been residing with the Goodwins 
for a few weeks, in the character of a boarder, as some asserted, 
while others affirmed it was as a friend. At all events, there 
was a mystery about her ; and most of the girls of Siberry had 
called her proud, because she did not join in their frivolities, 
flirtations and visits. It was true, no one had ever thought of 
discharging the duties of social life by calling on her, or iu 
making the advances usual to well-bred people ; but this makch 
little difference where there is a secret consciousness of inferiority, 
and of an inferiority that is felt, while it is denied. Such things 
are of every-day occurrence, in country-life in particular, while 
American town-life is ftir from being exempt from the weakness. 
In older countries, the laws of society are better respected. 

It was now plain that the blight of suspicion had fallen on 
this unknown, and seemingly friendless girl. If the fire had 
been communicated intentionally, who so likely to be guilty i\^ 
she ? if the money was gone, who had so many means of securing 
it as herself? These were questions that passed from one to 
•mother, until distrust gathered so much head, that the coroner 
deemed it expedient to adjourn the inquest, while the proof 
might be collected, and offisred in proper form. 

Dr. McBrain was, by nature, kind-hearted ; then lie could not 



42 THE WAY S O F TII E H UB. 

easily get over that stubborn scientific fact, of both the skeletons 
having belonged to females. It is true that, admitting this to 
be the case, it threw very little light on the matter, and in no 
degree lessened any grounds of suspicion that might properly 
rest on the "young woman"; but it separated him from the 
throng, and placed his mind in a sort of middle condition, in 
which he fancied it might be prudent, as well as charitable, to 
doubt. Perceiving that the crowd was dispersing, though not 
without much animated discussion in under tones, and that the 
subject of all this conversation still remained in her solitary 
corner, apparently unconscious of what was going on, the worthy 
doctor approached the immovable figure, and spoke. 

"You have come here as a vritness, I presume,'' he said, in a 
gentle tone ; " if so, your attendance just now will no longer be 
necessary, the coroner having adjourned the inquest until to- 
morrow afternoon." 

At the first sound of his voice, the solitary female removed a 
fine cambric handkerchief from her face, and permitted her new 
companion to look upon it. We shall say nothing, here, touch- 
ing that countenance or any other personal peculiarity, as a sufii- 
ciently minute description will be given in the next chapter, 
through the communications made by Dr. IMcBrain to Duns- 
comb. Thanking her informant for his information, and ex- 
changing a few brief sentences on the melancholy business which 
had brought both there, the young woman arose, made a slight 
but very graceful inclination of her body, and withdrew. 

Dr. IMcBrain's purpose was made up on the spot. He saw 
very plainly that a fierce current of suspicion was setting against 
tl.is pleasing, and, as it seemed to him, friendless young creature; 
and he determined at once to hasten back to town, and get his 
friend to go out to Biberry, without a moment's ^elay, that he 
might appear there that very afternoon in the character of 
counsel to the helpless. 



T n H W A Y S O F T H E H O U R, 4'J 



CHAPTER in. 

" I am informed thoroughly of the cause. 
Which is the merchant here, and which the Jew f" 

Merchant oj Venice, 

Such was the substance of the communication that Doctoi 
McBrain now made to his friend, Tom Dunscomb. The latter 
had L'stened with an interest he did not care to betray, and when 
the other was done he gaily cried — 

" I '11 tell the widow Updyke of you, Ned V* 

" She knows the whole story already, and is very anxious lest 
you should have left town, to go to the Rockland circuit, where 
she has been told you have an important case to try." 

"The cause goes over on account of the opposite counsel's 
being in the court of appeals. Ah's me ! I have no pleasure in 
managing a cause since this Code of Procedure has innovated on 
all our comfortable and venerable modes of doing business. 1 
believe I shall close up my affairs, and retire, as soon as I can 
bring all my old cases to a termination.'' 

" If you can bring those old cases to a termination, you will 
be the first lawyer who ever did." 

"Yes, it is true, Ned," answered Dunscomb, coolly taking a 
pinch of snuff, "you doctors have the advantage of us, in this 
behalf; your cases certainly do not last for ever." 

" Enough of this, Tom — you will go to Biberry, I take it foi 
granted?" 



*4 THEWAYS OF THE HOUR 

" You have forgotten the fee. Under the new code, compen- 
sation is a matter of previous agreement/' 

" You shall have a pleasant excursion, over good roads, in the 
month of JMay, in an easy carriage, and drawn by a pair of as 
Fpirited horses as ever trotted on the Third Avenue/' 

"The animals you have just purchased in honour of Mrs. 
TJpdyke that is — J^Irs. McBrain that is to be — '' touching the 
bell, and adding to the very respectable black who imniediately 
answered the summons, " Tell Master Jack and Miss Sarah I 
wish to see them. So, Ned, you have let the widow know all 
about it, and she does not pout or look distrustful — that is a 
good symptom, at least.'' 

" I would not marry a jealous woman, if I never had a wife !" 

" Then you will never marry at all. Why, Dr. McBrain, it 
is in the nature of woman to be distrustful — to be jealous — to 
fancy things that are merely iSgments of the brain." 

" You know nothing about them, and would be wisest to be 
silent — but here are the young people already, to ask your 
pleasure." 

"Sarah, my dear," resumed the uncle in a kind and affec- 
tionate tone of voice, one that the old bachelor almost univer- 
sally held towards that particular relative, " I must give you a 
little trouble. Go into my room, child, and put up, in my small- 
est travelling bag, a clean shirt, a handkerchief or two, three or 
four collars, and a change all round, for a short expedition into 
the country." 

" Country ! Do you quit us to-day, sir?" 

"Within an hour, at latest," looking at his watch. "If we 
leave the door at ten, we can reach Biberry before the inquest 
reassembles. You told those capital beasts of yours, Ned, to 
some here?" 

" I told Stephen to give them a hint to that effect. You maj 
rely on their punctuality." 



T H E W A Y S O F THE II O 13 R. 40 

'^ Jack, you had better be of our party. I go on some legal 
Dusiaess of importance, and it may be well for you to go along, 
in order to pick up an idea, or two.'' 

"And why not Michael also, sir ? He has as much need of 
ideas as I have myself.'' 

A pretty general laugh succeeded, though Sarah, who was just 
quitting the room, did not join in it. She rather looked gi-ave, 
as well as a little anxiously towards the last-named neophyte of 
the law. 

" Shall we want any books, sir V demanded the nephew. 

" Why, yes — we will take the Code of Procedure. One can 
no more move without that, just now, than he can travel in some 
countries without a passport. Yes, put up the code. Jack, and 
we '11 pick it to pieces as we trot along." 

" There is little need of that, sir, if what they say be true. 1 
hear, from all quarters, that it is doing that for itself, on a 
gallop." 

" Shame on thee, lad — I have half a mind to banish thee to 
Philadelphia! But put up the code; thy joke can't be worse 
than that joke. As for Michael, he can accompany us if he 
wish it ; but you must both be ready by ten. At ten, precisely, 
we quit my door, in the chariot of Phoebus, eh, Ned?" 

" Call it what you please, so you do but go. Be active, young 
gentlemen, for we have no time to throw away. The jury meet 
again at two, and we have several hours of road before us. 1 
will run round and look at my slate, and be here by the time 
you are ready. 

On this suggestion everybody was set in active motion. John 
went for his books, and to fill a small rubber bag for himself; 
Michael did the same, and Sarah was busy in her uncle's room. 
As for Dunscomb, he made the necessary disposition of some 
papers, wrote two or three notes, and held himself at the com- 
mand of his friend. This affair was just the sort of professional 



46 T H E W A Y S O F THE HOUR. 

business in which he liked to be engaged. Not that he had any 
Bympathj with crime, for he was strongly averse to all commu- 
nion with rogues ; but it appeared to him, by the representations 
of the doctor, to be a mission of mercy. A solitary, young, un- 
friended female, accused, or suspected, of a most heinous crime, 
and looking around for a protector and an adviser, was an object 
too interesting for a man of his temperament to overlook, under 
the appeal that had been made. Still he was not the dupe of his 
feelings. All his coolness, sagacity, knowledge of human nature, 
and professional attainments, were just as active in him as they 
ever had been in his life. Two things he understood well : that 
we are much too often deceived by outward signs, mistaking 
character by means of a fair exterior, and studied words, and 
U\at neither youth, beauty, sex, nor personal graces were infalli- 
ble preventives of the worst offences, on the one hand ; and that, 
on the other, men nurture distrust, and suspicion, often, until it 
grows too large to be concealed, by means of their own propensity 
to feed the imagination and to exaggerate. Against these two 
weaknesses he was now resolved to arm himself; and when the 
whole party drove from the door, our counsellor was as clear- 
headed and impartial, according to his own notion of the matter^ 
as if he were a judge. 

By this time the young men had obtained a general notion of 
the business they were on, and the very fii-st subject that was 
started, on quitting the door, was in a question put by John 
^Vilmeter, in continuation of a discussion that had been com- 
menced between himself and his friend. 

^' Mike and I have a little difference of opinion, on a point 
connected with this matter, which I could wish you to settle for 
us, as an arbiter. On the supposition that you find reason to 
believe that this young woman has really committed these, hor- 
rible crimes, what would be your duty in the case — to continue 
^o befriend her, and advise her, and use your experience and 



T n i: WAY H o K 'I 11 E n o i: ii. 4? 

UihniH in order to «hicld her againnt iho pf;rialUf;:': of tho ]uw_, or 
»/) ,'ibarjdon her at oncAiV 

"in plain English; Jar;k, you arid your brothor :-:t.udont winb 
to know wljot.hor I am to act as a palladiunj, or as a runagate, in 
this affair. As neophyt^-s in your eraft, it may be well t/j Hug- 
gest to you, in the first place, that I have not yet been fee'd. 1 
never knew a lawyer's c^jnscicnce trouble liim about qucstionfl in 
casuistry, until he lia<i received something down/' 

" But you can suppose that Fomething paid, in this case, sir, 
and then answer our question." 

" This is just the case in which I can suppos^i nothing of the 
gi^^rt. Had McBrain given rue to understand I was to meet a 
client, with a well-lined purse, who was accused of ar»r>n and 
murder, I would have seen him marrie^l to two women, at the 
imne time, before I would have budged. It's the want of a fee 
that takes me out of town, this morning.'' 

" And the same want, I trast, sir, will stimukte you to sf.'lve 
our difficulty.'' 

The uncle laughed, and nr/Jded his hea/J, much as if he would 
say, " Pretty well for you;" then he gave a thought to the p^int 
in professional ethics that had started up ?>etween his two 
Ktudents. 

" This is a very old question with the profession, gentlemen," 
Dunsc^>mb answered, a little more gravely. "You will find 
men who mainbiin that the lawyer has, moraUy, a right to do 
whatever his client would do; that he puts himself in the pkce 
of the man he defends, and is expected to do everything pro- 
eiscly as if he were the, accused party himself. I mther think 
that some vague notion, quite as loose as this, prevails pretty 
generally among what one may call the minor moralists of the 
profession." . 

"I confess, sir, that I have been given to understand that 
tome such rule ought to govern our conduct," said Michael Mil- 



48 T II K VV A V H () K r II K II <) II R. 

Ungtoti, vvlio li;i(l Ik'cii lii Diinrcdinh'M oHiccMtMl)' for IJm! lant hIx 
tnoiitliM. 

"'riicii yoM li:i,V(! I»i(ii very l(»(i;-!('Iy iiikI ));i(Ily iiisliiiclcd in tli«' 
(liilicM of Jill :hIv(>c;iI(', IMr. IMicluicl. A iiinni jxTnicioii;-! doclriiip 
WJiM never l»ni;icli(Ml, or one Ix-ller siilled lo iiiiiliti men Heoiindnils. 
li(!l- Ji }'(»nii;^ niiin l»e^;iii i)r;ieiie(! wiMi .such notions, Jind two or 
threo tlii(W(\M lorelieiilM will jd'epMre liini lo connnit juil-if, Inroc^ny, 
nnd :i c.'ise or two of |>eijnry would render liiin ;in (!X(Uiisil(i ut 
tin :il1id:i.viL No, my hoyn, iu^-o in yonv nilo in MiiH iniiMer: 
jin iidvoenle ii.i.s ii. ;//://7 io do wli:il<iver Ins (dieiil, ]i;iH u rii^ht to 
do — nol. wli:ii liiM elieiil/ won hi <lo." 

''Snr(dy, sir, iin ;idvoe;d(^ is jnslilied in leHin;j; his elienl- io 
|)leiid not ;i;iiilly, llionoh ^-^niliy; :ind in :iidin^ liiin io persniulo 
11. jury io iKMjiiii liiiii, llioiigli siilislied liiniscdf lie oiiglit io bo 
convieteil !" 

" Vou li!i.V(i goi, hold of ili(^ parent. ]>oini in ilic^ cMse, Jjicl(, nnd 
one on wdrmh sonielhInj>; ni.iy l)e siiid on hoih sides. The l:iw is 
so indiil'^eni, iis Io |ieiniii :in .-leeiised who h;is lornially pleaded 
^«niiliy,' ihns niakin<'; a, dislinei admission of his <'rime, io wiih- 
(h-avv liiai ]»lea, and piii in another of < noi ^!;nilly.' Now, liad 
the sanu! person ina.<le a. similar admission o?/./ of eoiiri, and undiT 
eirenmslaiiees ihai jmi Ihreals or j)r(»mises out of IIh^ (pieslioii, 
iJio hiw would have aeeei)l('d t/i<U admission as ilio best ixwsihlo 
(uddi'iico of his •.Miili. li is evidcMii, iluM-cdbre, ihai an iiiulcr- 
siandiiii!^ exists, lo which IIk^ jnstico of the eonnlry is u ]>ariy, 
thai a. man, thoiiidi guilty, shall <';et himself out of Hie scrape, if 
he can do so by lc<^al nutans. No more imporlaneo is attached 
(o lh(^ ' not ^.niilty,' than to Hk^ ' not ^it iiome' ion visitor; it 
iM'iii!^ niid(>rstood, by <M>neral convention, lliat neilher means any- 
thin;.:;. Some persons are so S(pieamisli, as to cause ilieir ser- 
vaiiliJ lo say ' lh(7 ai-e cn;j:;a«;ed,' Ity way of not lelling u Ho J 
but a. liiMionsisIs in the intentional deceplion, and ' not in* and 
'not ^nilLy' mean no more^ in llu> one I'ase, Ihan 'yon can't suo 



THK VV VVH OK TilTi! if O U K, 49 

my injisi(T/ iuid in IIk; oilier, ili;u» * I 'II run IIm; (;li;iric,e,s of ;* 
li-ial.' '' 

*' AHj-r ;ill, ,sir, il»is in ^j)'ni'/ [tycMy nc.'ir \.\\(' vvio'l, in IIk' w.iy 
of rnoralH." 

'^ 1 1, (;crt;iinly in. 'I'lic Christian in:ui who h;iH conwniUcd a 
ciIijK!, oij^^hf, not to ;iit(;in])t to dony it to hi,s oouiiiry, an he cct- 
1,:iinly cinnot to liis (^)'l. Vest, nino liun(h-<;(l and ninoty-ninc 
in a tliouH.'in.l of the inont Htniit-lacod (JhrintiariH in tiio oonj- 
inunily would ho dony their giiilt, if arnii|.ai(;d. Wo niuKt not 
bix ])<)()Y human nature too heavily, though i thiidc the eommon 
law contairiH many thingH, originating in a jcalouHy of hereditary 
power, that it in great folly for us to preserve. IJut, while we 
are thus seftling prinoiplcH, w(i forget facta. You have told uui 
nothing of your client, Ned." 

" What would you winh to know V J 

" You called her young, I reniemljer; what may ]>(t her pn;- 
cise age V 

"That is mon; than I know; Homewhere between Hixtef;n and 
live-and-twenty." 

" Fivc-and-twenty ! Is she as old as that V 

<M rather think nf)t; but T have been thinking nnieh of lM;r 
liiJH morning, ,*i.nd I really do not remember to have Been anfWher 
human being who is ko dillicnlt l/> describe." 

" She has eyes, of course ?" 

"Two — and v<try expressive they are; though, sworn, i could 
not tell their colour." 

"And hair'r 

" Jn very great profusion; so mueh of it, and so very fine and 
shining, that it was the first thing about her person which I ob- 
served. ]>ut I have not the hjast notif>n of its colour." 

"Was it red?" 

"No; noryellrjw, nor golden, nr^r black, nor brown,--fuid yet 
a littl(; of all blend(;d tog(;ther, I should say." 



oO r n E w AYS of the hour. 

"Ned, T '11 tell the Widow Updykc of thcc, tliou rogue !" 

" Tell her, and wek'oiiio. She has asked me all these questions 
herself, this very luorning." 

" Oh, she has, has she ? lTiuj)h ! AVoinan never changes her 
natiu'e. You cannot say anything a])out the eyes, beyond the 
fact of their being very expressive ?" 

" And pleasing ; more than that, even — engaging ; winning, la 
a better term." 

"Ned, you dog, you have never told the widow one-half!" 

" Every syllable. I even went farther, and declared I had 
never beheld a countenance that, in so short an interview, made 
BO deep an impression on me. If I were not to see this young 
woman again, I should never forget the expression of her face — 
so spirited, so sad, so gentle, so feminine, and so very intelligent. 
It seemed to me to be what I should call an illuminated coun- 
tenance." 

" Handsome ?" 

" Not unusually so, among our sweet American girls, except 
through the expression. That was really wonderful; though, 
you will remember, I saw her under very peculiar circum- 
stances." 

" Oh, exceedingly peculiar. Dear old soul ; what a thump she 
has given him ! How were her mouth and her teeth ? — com- 
plexion, stature, figure, and smile?" 

" I can tell you little of all these. Her teeth are fine ; for she 
gave me a faint smile, such as a lady is apt to give a man in 
quitting him, and I saw just enough of the teeth to know that 
they are exceedingly fine. You smile, young gentlemen ; but yov 
may have a care for 3'onr hearts, in good truth; for if this strange 
girl interests either of you one-half as much as she has interested 
me, she will be either IMrs. John AVilmeter, or Mrs. Michael 
Millington, within a twelvemonth," 

Michael looked very sure that she would never fill the Inst 



T II K WAYS O V THE HO U 1! . 51 

eituation, which was already bespoke for Miss Sarah Wilmetcr ; 
and as for Jack, he laughed outright. 

" We '11 tell Mrs. Updyke of him, when we get back, and break 
off that affair, at least," cried tlie uncle, v/inking at the nephew, 
but in a way his friend should see him; "then there will be one 
marriage the less in the world." 

" But is she a lady, doctor ?" demanded John, after a short 
pause., " My wife must have some trifling claims in that way, I 
can assure you." 

"As for family, education, association and fortune, I can say 
nothing, — I know nothing. Yet will I take upon myself to 
say she is a lady, — and that, in the strict signification of the 
term." 

" You are not serious now, Ned !" exclaimed the counsellor, 
quickly. "Not a hony fide, as some of our gentlemen have it? 
You cannot mean exactly what you say." 

"I do, though; and that literally." 

" And she suspected of arson and murder ! Where are her 
connections and friends, — those who made her a lady ? Why 
is she there alone, and, as you say, unfriended ?" 

" So it seemed to me. You might as well ask me why she 
is there, at all. I know nothing of all this. I heard plenty 
of reasons in the street, why she ought to be distrusted, — nay, 
convicted ; for the feeling against her had got to be intense, be- 
fore I left Bibcrry ; but no one could tell me whence she came, 
or wliy she was there." 

" Did you learn her name V 

" Yes; that was in every mouth, and I could not help hearing 
it. She was called IMary Monson by the people of Biberry — 
tut T much doubt if that be her real name." 

" So, your angel in disguise will have to be tried under an 
'alias!' That is not much in her favour, Ned. I shall ask no 
more questions, but wait patiently to see and judge for myself." 



52 THE WAYS O F T II E II O U K. 

The young men put a few more inten-ogatories, which were 
civilly answered^ and then the subject was dropped. Well it has 
been said that "God made the country; man made the town.'"" 
No one feels this more than he who has been shut up between 
walls of brick and stone for many months, on his first escape into 
the open, unfettered fields and winding pleasant roads. Thus 
was it now with Dunscomb. He had not been out of town 
since the previous summer, and great was his delight at smelling 
the fragrance of the orchards, and feasting his eyes on their 
beauties. All the other charms of the season came in aid of 
these, and when the caiTiage drove into the long, broad, and we 
might almost say single street of Biberry, Dunscomb in particu- 
lar was in a most tranquil and pleasant state of mind. He had 
come out to assist a friendless woman, cheerfully and without a 
thought of the sacrifice, either as to time or money, though in 
reflecting on all the circumstances he began to have his doubts 
of the wisdom of the step he had taken. Nevertheless, he pre- 
served his native calmness of manner, and coolness of head. 

Biberry was found to be in a state of high excitement. There 
were at least a dozen physicians collected there, all from the 
county, and five or six reporters had come from town. Rumours 
of all sorts were afloat, and Mary Monson was a name in every 
person's mouth. She had not been arrested, however, it having 
been deemed premature for that ; but she was vigilantly watched, 
and two large trunks of which she was the mistress, as well as 
an oilskin covered box of some size, if not absolutely seized, were 
60 placed that their owner had no access to them. This state of 
things, however, did not seem to give the suspected girl an 3^ 
uneasiness; she was content with what a carpet-bag contained, 
and with which she said she was comfortable. It was a question 
with the wiseacres whether she knew that she was suspected 01 
not. 

Had Dunscomb yielded to McBraiii's solicitations, he would 



THE WATS OF THE HOUR. 53 

have gone at onee to the house in which Mary Monson was now 
lodged, but he preferred adopting a different course. He thought 
it the most prudent to be a looker-on, until after the next- exami- 
nation, which was now close at hand. AVary by long habit, and 
cool by temperament, he was disposed to observe the state of 
things before he committed himself. The presence of the re- 
portois annoyed him; not that he stood in any di-ead of the low 
tyranny that is so apt to characterize this class of men, for no 
member of the bar had held them, and the puny efforts of many 
among them to build up and take away professional character, in 
greater contempt than he had done ; but he disliked to have his 
uame mixed up with a cause of this magnitude, unless he had 
made up his mind to go through with it. In this temper, then, 
no comnnmication was held with Mary Monson, until they met, 
at the hour appointed for the inquest, in the court-house. 

The room wa,s crowded, at least twice as many ha\dng collected 
on tiiis occasion as had got together on the sudden call of the 
pre\dous exammation. Dunscomb observed that the coroner 
looked grave, like a man who felt he had important business on 
his hands, while a stern expectation was the expression common 
to nearly all the others present. He was an utter stranger, him- 
self, ev"eii by sight, to every being present, his own party and 
two or three of the reporters excepted. These last no sooner 
observed him, however, than out came their little note-books, and 
the gold pens were at work, scribbling something. It was pro- 
bably a sentence to say, " we observed among the crowd Thomas 
Dunscomb, Esquire, the well-known counsel from the city ;" but 
Dunscomb cared very little for such vulgarisms, and continued 
passive. 

As soon as the inquest was organized, the coroner directed a 
physician of the neighbourhood to be put on the stand. It had 
gone forth that a " city doctor" had intimated that neither of the 
skeletons was that of Peter Goodwin, and tliere was a comraoD 



54 TII E WA Y S OF THE II O U R. 

wish to confront liiiu with a liigli country authority. It was 
while the medical man now in request was sent for, that McBraiu 
pointed out to Punsconib the person of Mary Monson. She sat 
in a corner different from that she had occupied the day before, 
seemingly for the same purpose, or that of being alone. Alone 
she was not, strictly, however; a respectable-looking female, of 
middle age, being at her side. This was a Mrs. Jones, the wife 
of a clergyman, who had charitably offered the suspected young 
stranger a home under her own roof, pending the investigation. 
It wn.s thought, generally, that Mary Monson had but very vague 
notions of the distrust that rested on her, it being a part of the 
j)lan of those who were exercising all their wits to detect the 
criminal, that she was first to learn this fact in open court, and 
under circumstances likely to elicit some proofs of guilt. When 
Dunscomb learned this artifice, he saw how ungenerous and un- 
manly it was, readily imagined a dozen signs of weakness that a 
female might exhibit in such a strait, that had no real connection 
with crime, and felt a strong disposition to seek an interview, and 
put the suspected party on her guard. It was too late for this, 
however, just then; and he contented himself, for the moment, 
with studying such signs of character and consciousness as his 
native sagacity and long experience enabled him to detect. 

Although nothing could be more simple or unpretending than 
the attire of ]\Iary Monson, it was clearly that of a lady. Kvery- 
thing about her denoted that station, or origin; though everything 
about her, as Dunscomb fancied, also denoted a desire to bring 
heryelf down, as nearly as possible, to the level of those around 
her, nu).st pr()btd)ly that she might not attract particular attention 
Our lawyer did not exactly like this slight proof of management, 
and wished it were not so apparent. He could see the hau<ls, 
feet, figure, hair, ;uid general air of the female he was so strangely 
called on to make the subject of his investigations, but he could 
act yet see lier face. The last wa^s again covered with a cambrio 



Til E WA Y S O F Til E II O U R, 55 

Iiandkcrchiof, the luiud which held it being luiglovel. It wa^ a 
pretty little Auiericaii hand ; white, well-propoi-tioiied, and deli- 
cate. It was clear, that neither its proportions nor its colour had 
been changed by uses unsuited to its owner's sex or years. But 
it had no ring, in this age of be-je welled fingers. It was the left 
hand, moreover, and the fourth finger, like all the rest, had no 
ornament, or sign of matrimony. He inferred from this, that the 
btranger was unmarried ; one of the la^t things that a wife usually 
lays aside being her wedding-ring. The foot corresponded with 
the hand, and was decidedly the smallest, best-formed, and best- 
decorated foot in Biberry. John Wilnieter thought it the 
prettiest he had ever seen. It was not studiously exhibited, 
however, but rested naturally and gra<;efully in its proper place 
The figure generally, so far as a capacious shawl would allow of 
its being seen, was pleasing, graceful, and a little reinarkabhi ff)r 
accuracy of proportions, as well as of attire. 

Once or twice Mrs. Jones spoke to her companion ; and it was 
when answering some question thus put, that Dunscomb first got 
a glimpse of his intended client's face. The handkerchief was 
partly removed, and remained so long enough to enable him to 
make a few brief observations. It was then that he felt the per- 
fect justice of his friend's description. It was an indescribable 
countenance, in all things but its effect; which was quite as 
marked on the lawyer, as it had been on the physician. But the 
arrival of Dr. Coe put an end to these observations, and drew all 
eyes on that individual, who was immediately sworn. The cus- 
tomary preliminary questions were put to this witness, rcspectiu 
his profession, length of practice, residence, &c., when the exami 
nation turned more on the matter immediately under investigation 

" You see those objects on the table, doctor ?" said the coroner. 
" What do you say they are-?" 

"Ossa hominum\ human bones, much defaced and charred 
by lieat '' 



!>(> T II K W A V K () K T II K II <» ri K. 

" Do you liiid :iiiy proof mJioiiI, llicm of vlolciico coiniuiU-ci^ 
Ihryond Mio d.imn^o doiu) Ity liroi"' 

'M!(irl,ji'mly. TImih^ in Uio os f'nmlis ol" c.icli lV;uliiii'(l )iy u 
l>lo\v ; :i. coiiimoii I)lovv, its I .sliould jiid;jv." 

*' WIimI. do ^oii luc.'in, sii', Ity :i coiiniioii blow '^ An uc('id<!nt;d^ 
or un iMl(!iiMon:d lilow '/" 

** \\y (Mumnoii blow, I iiic.iii (li:il oiui l)l(»vv did llio thiiiiM^^ci to 
l»o(li craiiys." 

^^Crany? — liow do you niudl lJi:d, word, doctor i* (Joimnoii 
fcdlvM ^(it. ])ut. out by foreign toujijiicM." 

" (IniiiyM, ill Ibc pliind, sir. \V(i s:iy cnui/um, lor onr .•^kiill, :i.nd 
criiiiy, lor two." 

" I wonder wli.d. be would H:i_y for iiiiMiMkull r'" wliisju'rcd rioiiii 
to Mirbiirl. 

" VrM, sir; I iiiidci^ Lind jdii, now. I Iriisl. (lu; rcpoiicrs will 
[i;t'l, it ri'.ddi." 

"Oil ! tlicy iKivcr Miiikt; .-my mislakc^s, (\Mpct'i;i.ll_y iu l('i;;d j»ro- 
(i('(Mrnio;M," (piietly n'iii;u-k(Hl ^Ir. .Duni'icoinb to llio doctor. '' In 
niMlti'is of l.iw :ui(l tb(^ coustilidioii, (licy arc ol" proof! T.ilk of 
bittcr.M on the constitution! What arc c(pial to those th.d. conu) 
to us, hihcrnallff, as oiu^ may say, from Washin;.!;ton T' 

" llihcrnially would l>e the bcttt-r word," answered Mclbaiu, 
iu th(^ same under toiu^ 

"Von ou;.';ht to know; your ^raiulfathcr was ;ui Irishinau, 
Ned. JMit listiMi to this t^xiuuination." 

" And now, Dr. (loc, have the ^oodiu'ss to look at these sk(do- 
ions," n>snmcd tlu^ coroner, '* and tell us whether they bclon«^ to 
iJian, woman, or child. AVhether tlu^y iwv the n>maius of udulls, 
or of ihiidren." 

" Of adults, ccrlaiiily. On that j)oiiit, sic, I coiu'cive llierc can 
tX) no doubt." 

"And as to I he sex'/" 

" 1 should (hink that is e<pially ch'ar. I have no douht lluit 



II K VV A V R () K T M K II O H U. 



67 



OIK! :iri! Ill i r(!in;i.iiiM of I *(5tor Goodwin, :i.i id Uk; otJicr I,Ii(),;(! of 
h'lM wil'c!. Sv;i(!ii(;() ciui (iiHljngiil.sh ])(!(.W(!(',ii tlic H(!X()H, in or(Jiri!i.ry 
r;iscM, I allow; l»ul, iJiis JH :i, cjih<! in wliidi H<;i(iii(;u is at f'aull., lor 
want, of I'aclHj and takiii^^ all tlio known (•ircuniHlanccM inl,o <!oii- 
Hidciaiioii, I lia,v(! no luiHil-aiioii ill Hayiii"^ tliat, according to my 
bnst; jiuJgincnl/, Lho.S(J nvo ilio rcinaiiiM of the iniMsing innn and 
v^oinaii — man and wile." 

"Am '. to iiiidcistatid tlia,t you rccogniz(! tli(! j>a,i liciilaj- skc-hj- 
toTiH by any outward, viHiMc proofs ?" 

" YcHy tiKirc is tli(; KtaXiiro. I>otli of the d(!(;(:a,ic(l vvcn^ vv<;U 
known to nic; and I !-;honId .say, that making the usual allowance 
for th(! ahsiiiice of" tin; niusculi, tli(! pc/lls^ and otlici- known ;'.id)- 
Htanccs 

"Doctor, would it Im! just as agnicahh; to you to US(! tin; com- 
mon dlal(;ct ?" <lcma,ndcd a, shrc,vv<I lool;ing farmer, one of the 
jury, who a|)j)carcd equally aiiiu:;<;d and v<!Xed at this di: |»lay of 
h;.'irning. 

" ('crtainly, sir — c(;rtalnly, IMr. iJlorc; tnitscu/i UKsaiiM miischis, 
and pnlila is the; skin. Ahsti-aet tin; muscles and .skin, and tin* 
otiuir int(!rm(!diatc HubHtances^ from th(5 Immich, and the; ajfparcnl 
Htatiire Avould })0 roduc(!d, afl a niattcir of eourw;. Making those 
ailowane(!S, I see in those Hkeletons th(; remains of l*et(;r and 
I)orotijy (jioodwin. Of tlie fa,et, I entertain no manner of doubt." 

Ah Dr. ('o(5 was wry sirKiere in what lie said, he expressed 
liimsctlf somewhat earnestly. A great many eyes were turned 
I rJunijJiantly towards the strang<;r who had presumed to intimate 
that the; Ix^ncs of both the remains were those of women, wIkjii 
everybody in and about !iif>erry knew Peter (loodwin ho well, 
and knew that his wife, if anything, was the ta.lhtr of the two. 
No OIK! in all that erow<l doubted as to the f;u;t, (:xe(!j>t Aleilrain 
iind his friend; and tiK! last <]f)ubt(!d altogrithrtr on the failh (,[' 
ihe doctor's science, lie had n(;ver known him mis.taken, though 
f»ft(!n exainiufid in (;(.urt, and was aware (hat \\\i: bar r-onnidenid 



58 THE WAYS O F T HE 11 O U It. 

him one of the safest and surest witnesses they could employ io 
all cases of controverted facts. 

Dr. Coe's examination proceeded. 

" Have you a direct knowledge of any of the circumstances 
connected with this fire?" demanded the coroner. 

" A little, perhaps. I was called to visit a .patient about mid- 
night, and was obliged to pass directly before the door of Good 
win's house. The jury knows that it stood on a retired road, and 
that one would not be likely to meet with any person travelling 
it, so early in the morning. I did pass, however, two men, who 
were walking very fast, and in the direction of Goodwin's. I 
could not see their faces, nor did I know them by their figures 
and movements. As I see everybody, and know almost every- 
body, hereabouts, I concluded they were strangers. About four, 
I was on my return along the same road, and as my sulky rose 
to the top of AVindy Ilill, I got a view of Goodwin's house. 
The flames Avere just streaming out of the east end of the roof, 
and the little wing on that end of the building, in which the old 
folks slept, was in a bright blaze. The other end was not much 
injured ; and I saw iit an upper window the figure of a female — 
she resembled, as well as I ooidd judge by that light, and at that 
distance, the young lady now present, and who is said to have 
occupied the chamber under the roof, in the old house, for some 
time past; though I canH say I have ever seen her there, unless 
I saw her then, under the circumstances mentioned. The old 
people could not have been as ailing this spring as was common 
with them, as I do not remember to have been stopped by them 
once. They never were in ther habit of sending for the doctor, 
but seldom let me go past the door, without calling me in." 

" Did you see any one beside the figure of the female at the 
window?" 

" Yes. There were two men beneath that window, and they 
appeared to mo to be speaking to, or holding some sort of com- 



T H E W A Y S O F T H E II O U R. 59 

munication with, the female. I saw gestures, aiid I saw one or 
two articles thrown out of the window. My view was only for a 
minute; and when I reached the house, a considerable crowd had 
collected, and I had no opportunity to observe, particularly in a 
scene of such confusion.'^ 

'* Was the female still at the upper window, when you reached 
the house?'' 

^' No. I saw the lady now present standing near the burning 
building, and held by a man — Peter Davidson, I think it was — ■ 
who told me she wanted to rush into the house to look for the 
old folks." 

"Did you see any efforts of that sort in her?'' 

" Certainly. She struggled to get away from Peter, and acted 
like a person who wished to rush into the burning building." 

"Were the struggles natural — or might they not have been 
atiected?" 

•^ They might. If it was acting, it was good acting. I have 
seen as good, however, in mj life." 

The doctor had a meaning manner, that said more than his 
words. He spoke very low — so low as not to be audible to those 
who sat in the farther parts of the room; which will explain the 
perfect indifference to his testimony, that was manifested by the 
subject of his remarks. An impression, however, was made on 
the imy, which was composed of men much disposed to push dis- 
trust to demonstration. 

The coroner now thought it time to spring the principal mine, 
which had been carefully preparing duritig the recess in the in- 
vestigation; and he ordered "Mary Monson" to be called — a 
witness who had been regularly summoned to attend, among the 
3rowd of persons that had received similar notices. 



60 T II E W A V S O F T II E 11 O U Ji, 



CHAPTER IV. 

My deed's upon my head ! I crave tlie law, 
The penalty and forfeit of my bond. 

Shylock. 

The eyes of Dimscomb were fastened intently on the femate 
stranger^ as she advanced to the place occupied by the witnesses. 
Her features denoted agitation, certainly ; but he saw no trace? 
of guilt. It seemed so improbable, moreover, tbat a young woman 
of her years and appearance should be guilty of so dark an offence, 
and that for money, too, that ail the oluinces were in favoui* of 
her innocence. Still, there were suspicious circumstances, out 
of all question, connected with her situation; and he was too 
much experienced in the strange and unaccountable ways of 
crime, not to be slow to form his conclusions. 

The face of Mary Monson was now fully exposed ; it being 
customary to cause female witnesses to remove their hats, in order 
that the jurors may observe their countenances. And what a 
countenance it was ! Feminine, open, with scarce a trace of the 
ordinary passions about it, and illuminated from within, as we 
have already intimated. ♦The girl might have been twenty, though 
she aftei-wards stated her age to be a little more than twenty-one 
— perhaps the most interesting period of a female's existence. 
The features were not particularly regular, and an artist might 
have discovered various drawbacks on her beauty, if not positive 
defects; but no earthly being could have quarrelled with the 
expression. That was a mixture of intelligence, softness, spirit, 



THE WAY S OF Til E H O U R. 01 

and feminine innocence^ that did not fail to produce an impression 
on a crowd which had ahnost settled down into a firm conviction 
of her guilt. Some even doubted, and most of those present 
thought it very strange. 

The reporters began to write, casting their eyes eagerly to- 
wards this witness ; and John Dunscomb, who sat near them, soon 
discovered that there were material discrepancies in their descrip- 
tions. These, however, were amicably settled by comparing 
notes; and when the accounts of that day's examination appeared 
in the journals of the time, they were sufficiently consistent with 
each other -, much more so, indeed, than with the truth in its 
severer aspects. There was no wish to mislead, probably; but 
the whole system has the capital defect of making a trade of 
news. The history of passing events comes to us sufficiently 
clouded and obscured by the most vulgar and least praiseworthy 
of all our lesser infirmities, even when left to take what may be 
termed its natural course ; but, as soon as the money-getting prin- 
ciple is applied to it, facts become articles for the market, and 
go nip and down, much as do other commodities, in the regular 
prices-current. 

Mary Monson trembled a little when sworn ; but she iiad evi- 
dently braced her nerves for the trial. Women are very capable 
of self-command, even in situations as foreign to their habits as 
this, if they have time to compose themselves, and to come 
forward under the influence of resolutions deliberately foi*med. 
Such was probably the state of mind of this solitary and seem- 
ingly unfriended young woman ; for, though pale as death, she 
was apparently composed. We say unfriended — Mrs. Jones, 
herself, having given all her friends to understand that she had 
invited the stranger to her house under a sense of general duty, 
and not on account of any private or particular interest she felt 
in her aflliirs. She was as much a stranger to her, as to eveiy 
f)iie else in the village. 



62 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

" Will you be so good as to tell us your name, place or ordi- 
nary residence, and usual occupation?'' asked the coroner, in a 
dry, cold manner, though not until he had offered the witness a 
scat, in compliment to her sex. 

If the face of Mary Monson was pale the instant before, it now 
flushed to scarlet. The tint that appears in the August evening 
sky, when heat-lightning illuminates the horizon, is scarce more 
bright than that which chased the previous pallid hue from her 
cheeks. Dunscomb understood her dilemma, and interposed. 
She was equally unwilling to tell her real name, and to give a 
false one, under the solemn responsibility of an oath. There is, 
probably, less of deliberate, calculated false-swearing, than orany 
Dther offence against justice ; few having the nerve, or the moral 
obtuseness, that is necessary to perjury. We do not mean by 
this, that all which legal witnesses say is true, or the half of it ; 
for ignorance, dull imaginations working out solutions of half- 
comprehended propositions, and the strong propensity we all feel 
to see things as we have expected to find them, in a measure 
disqualifies fully half of those on whom the law has devolved a 
most important duty, to discharge it with due intelligence and 
impartiality. 

" As a member of the bar, I interfere in behalf of the wit- 
ness," said Dunscomb, rising. "She is evidently unacquainted 
with her true position here, and' consequently with her rights. 
Jack, get a glass of water for the young lady;'' and never did 
Jack obey a request of his uncle with greater alacrity. "A 
witness cannot, with propriety, be treated as a criminal, or 
one suspected, without being apprised that the law does not 
require of those thus circumstanced, answers affecting them- 
selves." 

Dunscomb had listened more to his feelings than to his legal 
knowledge, in offering this objection, inasmuch as no very search- 
ing question had, as yet, been put to IMary Monson. This the 



THEWAYSOF THE HOUR. 63 

coroner saw, and he did not fail to let it be understood that he 
was aware of the weakness of the objection. 

" Coroners are not governed by precisely the same rules as 
ordinary committing magistrates/' he quietly observed, 'though 
we equally respect the rules of evidence. No -witness is obliged 
to answer a question before an inquest, that will criminate him- 
self, any more than at the Oyer and Terminer. If the lady will 
say she does not wish to tell her real name, because it may en- 
raiiiate her, I shall not press the question myself, or allow it to 
be pressed by others. '^ 

" Very true, sir ; but the law requires, in these preliminary 
proceedings, no more than such accuracy as is convenient in 
making out the records. I conceive that in this particular case 
the question might be varied by asking, * You are known by the 
name of Mary Monson, I believe?' " 

" What gi-eat liarm can it be to this young female to give her 
real name, Mr. Dunscomb, as I understand you are that distin- 
guished counsellor, if she be perfectly innocent of the death of 
the Goodwins?" 

"A perfectly innocent person may have good reasons for wish- 
ing to conceal her name. These reasons obtain additional force 
wben we look around us, and see a committee of reporters, who 
stand ready to transmit all that passes to the press: — but, it 
might better serve the ends of justice to allow me to confer with 
the witness in private.'' 

" With all my heart, sir. Take her into one of the jury 
rooms, and I will put another physician on the stand. When 
you are through with your consultation, Mr. Dunscomb, we 
shall be ready to proceed with your client." 

Dunscomb offered his arm to the girl, and led her through the 
crowd, while a third medical man was sworn. This witness cor- 
roborated all of Dr. Coe's opinions, treating the supposition that 
both the skeletons were those of women with very little respect 



84 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

It must be admitted that the suspected stranger lost a great deal 
of ground in the course of that half-hour. In the fii'st place, the 
discussion about the name was received very much as an admis- 
sion of guilt; for Dunscomb's argument that persons who were 
innocent might have many reasons for concealing their names, 
did not carry much weight with the good people of Biberry. 
Then any doubts which might have been raised by McBrain's 
suggestion concerning the nature of the skeletons, were effectually 
removed by the corroborating testimony of Dr. Short, who so 
fully sustained Dr. Coe. So much are the Americans accus- 
tomed to refer the decision of nearly all questions to numbers, 
it scarcely exaggerates the truth to say that, on the stand, the 
opinion of half-a-dozen country surveyors touching a problem 
in geometry, would be very apt to overshadow that of a professor 
from AVest Point, or old Yale. Majorities are the primum 
mobile of the common mind, and he who can get the greatest 
number on his side is very apt to be considered right, and to 
reap the benefits of being so. 

A fourth and a fifth medical man were examined, and they 
concurred in the opinions of Dr. Coe and his neighbours. All 
gave it as the result of their enquiries, that they believed the 
two skulls had been broken with the same instrument, and that 
the blow, if it did not cause immediate death, must have had tlie 
efiect to destroy consciousness. As regards the sex, the answers 
were given in a tone somewhat supercilious. 

"Science is a very good thing in its place,'' observed one ol 
these last witnesses; "but science is subject to known facts 
We all know that Peter Goodwin and his wife lived in that 
house ; we all know that Dorothy Goodwin was a large woman, 
and that Peter Goodwin was a small man, — that they were about 
of a height, in fact, — and that these skeletons very accurately 
represent their respective statures. We also know that the house 
is burnt, that the old couple are missing, that these bones were 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 65 

found in a wing in wliicli they slept, and that no other bonoa 
have been found there. Now, to my judgment, these facts carry 
as much weight, ay, even more weight, than any scientific reason- 
ing in the premises. I conclude, therefore, that these are the 
remains of Peter and Dorothy Goodwin — have no doubt that 
they are, indeed/^ 

" Am I permitted to ask this witness a question, Mr. Coroner ?" 
demanded Dr. McBrain. 

"With all my heart, sir. The jury wishes to ascertain all 
tl ey can, and our sole object is justice. Our inquests are not 
very rigid as to forms, and you are welcome to examine the wit- 
ness as much as you please.^' 

"You knew Goodwin?^' asked McBrain, directly of the 
witness. 

"I did, sir; quite well." 

" Had he all his teeth, as you remember?'' 

"I think he had.'' 

" On the supposition that his front upper teeth were all gone, 
and that the skeleton you suppose to be his had all the front 
upper teeth, would you still regard the facts you have mentioned 
as better, or even as good proof, as the evidence of science, which 
tells us that the man who has lost his teeth cannot possess them 1" 

" I scarcely call that a scientific fact, at all, sir. Any one may 
judge of that circumstance, as well as a physician. If it were as 
you say, I should consider the presence of the teeth pretty good 
proof that the skeleton was that of some other person, unless the 
teeth were the work of a dentist." 

" Then why not put any other equally sure anatomical fact in 
opposition to what is generally supposed, in connection with the 
wing, the presence of the men, and all the other circumstances 
you have mentioned ?" 

"If there were any other sure anatomical fact, so I would. 
But, in the condition in which those remains are, I do not think 



()(» T 11 K \V A Y S OK T II K IIOI'K. 

tlio lu'st Jiuntomlst could s:i)' that, ho can tlistingui.sh whether 
thcY bch»jj';vtl to a man or io a woman." 

"1 conl't'ss that the I'asc has its dilVii'iiltlcs,' * IMcl>rain (]uiotlv 
answiMvil. " Still 1 incline io my lirst, opinion. 1 trust, Mr. 
(•oroner, that the skeletons will be caivi'ull}' j>reserYO(l, so long 
as there may ho any reason to continue these legal emjuirios 1"* 

" ('ertainly, sir. A box. is made lor that. i>urj>ose, and they 
will be laret'ully deposited in it, as soon as the in(|uest adjourns 
for the day. It is no nnnsual thing, genthMuen, tor doctors to 
disagree." 

This was saiil with a smile, anil had the ellect to keep the 
peace. ^Iclhain, however, had all the modesty of knowledge, 
and was never disposed to show otV his superior attainmentvs in 
the faces i>f those wlu> might be supposed to kninv less than 
himself. >«or was he, by any means, certain of his fact ; though 
greatly im-lined to believe that both the skeletinis wmv those of 
females. The heat had been so i>owert'ul as to ilerange, in some 
measure, if not entirely to deface, his proiUs ; and he was not .i 
man to press a fact, in a case of this magnitude, without suthcient 
jnstilication. All he mnv wanted, was to reserve a point that 
might have a material intluence hereafter, in ciMuing to a correct 
conclusion. 

It was fully an he-ur before Punscomb returned, bringing 
Mary IMonsou mi his arm. tlohn followed the latter closely, for, 
though not admitted to the room in which this h>ng private con- 
feronco had been held, he had not ceased to pace the gallery iu 
front o\' its doov during the whole time. Punscoud) looked very 
grave, and, as !Mcl>raiu thought, and he was very expert iu in- 
terpreting the language of his friend's eonntenance, disjippointed. 
The girl herself had eviilently been weeping, and that violently. 
There was a paleiu\ss of the face, and a tremor in the frame, too, 
tliat caused the observant ]»hysiviau to suppose that, for the lirst 
duie, she had been made to comprehend that she was the objtvt 



T UK W A Y H () K 'I' II K II O II It. <>7 

of sudi (lire distrust. No soorior were ilio two in tli<;ir old Hou-ts; 
tli:i,ri tlic (:orf)ncr prepared to renew the susperid<;d (ixaniiiiation. 

" VVitiKJSs/' repeated that funetionary witli marked fornialily, 
" wliat is your iiairif; i!"' 

'J'h(j answer was given in a tremulous voice, hiit with sufiieient 
aadiness, its it' [)reviously prepared. 

" I am kiiowii; in and around Biberry, Ijy iiie name of iMary 
Mmiisoii." 

'J'Ik; eoroner paused, passed a liand over his brow, mused a 
moment, and abandoned a half-formed determination he had 
made, to push this particular enquiry UB far as ho could. 'I'o 
state; tlie truth, he was a litthi afraid of Mr. Thomas Dunseomb, 
whose re[)utation at tlie ]jar w;i,s of too liigh a charaetfT to have 
ese;i,ped his notI(;(!. On the whole, therefore, he decided to 
accept the name of Mary Monson, reserving the right of tlie state 
to enquire furthfsr, hereaftfjr. 

"Where do you rcHulc/C 

"At [iresetit, in this place — lately, in the family of I'utor 
rir)odwin, whose remains are supposed to be in this room.'^ 

" ITow long had you resided in that family '(" 

" Nine weeks, to a day. 1 arrived in the morning, and the 
fire occurred at night." 

"Relate all that you know concerning that fire, if you please, 
Wim — I call you Miss, supposing you to be unmarried?" 

Mary Monson merely made a slight inclination of hf;r he;id, aa 
one acknowledges that a remark is heard and understood. 'I'his 
did not more than half satisfy the coroner, his wif(;, for reasons 
of her own, having particularly desired him tf) ask the " Monson 
girl," when she was put on the stand, whether she was or wafl 
not married. But it was too late, just then, to ascertain tliis in- 
Uiresting facjt, and the examination proceeded. 

"Relate all that you know concerning the fire, if you please, 



o8 T 11 E W A y S O F T H E II U R. 

" I know very little. I was awakened by a bright ligiit^ — arose, 
and dressed myself as well as I could^ and was about to descend 
the stairs, when I found I was too late. I then went to a win- 
dow, and intended to throw my bed out, and let myself dowTi 
on it; when two men appeared, and raised a ladder, by which I 
got safely out.'' 

"Were any of your effects saved?'' 

"All, I believe. The same two persons entered my room, and 
passed my trunks, box, and carpet-bag, wi'iting-desk, and other 
articles, out of the room, as well as most of its furniture. It was 
the part of the building last on fire, and it was safe entering the 
room I occupied, for near half an hour after I escaped." 

"How long had you known the Goodwins?" 

"From the time when I first came to live in theii' house." 

" Did you pass the evening of the night of the fire in their 
company?" 

" I did not. Very little of my time was passed in their com- 
pany, unless it was at meals." 

This answer caused a little stir among the audience, of whom 
much the larger portion thought it contained an admission to be 
noted. Why should not a young woman who lived in a house 
so much apart from a general neighbourhood, not pass most of 
her time in the company of those with whom she dwelt ? " If 
they were good enough to live with, I should think they might 
be good enough to associate with," whispered one of the most 
active female talkers of Biberry, but in a tone so loud as to be 
heard by all near her. 

This was merely* yielding to a national and increasing suscep- 
tibility to personal claims; it being commonly thought aristocratic 
to refuse to associate with everybody, when the person subject 
to remark has any apparent advantages to render such association 
desirable. All others may do as they please. 

"You did not, then, make one of the family regularly, but 



THE WAYS O F T II E HOUR. 09 

wrere there for some particular purpose of your own'/"^ resumed 
the coroner. 

" I think, sir, on reflection, that you will see this examination 
is taking a very irregular course,'^ interposed Dunscomb. *'.lt 
is more like an investigation for a commitment, than an inquest." 

" The law allows the freest modes of enquiry in all such cases, 
Mr Dunscomb. Recollect, sir, there have been arson and mur- 
der — two of the highest crimes known to the books. '^ 

" I do not forget it ; and recognise not only all your rights^ 
»ir, but your duties. Nevertheless, this young lady has rights, 
too, and is to be treated distinctly in one of two characters ; as a 
witness, or as a party accused. If in the latter, I shall at once 
advise her to answer no more questions in this state of the case. 
My duty, as her counsel, requires me to say as much.'' 

" She has, then, regularly retained you, Mr. Dunscomb ?" the 
coroner asked, with interest. 

"That, sir, is a matter between her and myself. I appear 
here as counsel, and shall claim the rights of one. I know that 
you can carry on this inquest vsdthout my interference, if you see 
fit ; but no one can exclude the citizen from the benefit of advice. 
Even the new code, as extravagant and high-flying an invention as 
ever came from the misguided ingenuity of man, will allow of this." 

"There is no wish, Mr. Dunscomb, to put any obstacles in 
your way. Let every man do his whole duty. Your client can 
certainly refuse to answer any questions she may please, on the 
ground that the answer may tend to criminate herself; and so 
may any one else." 

" I beg your pardon, sir ; the law is still more indulgent in 
these preliminary proceedings. A party who knows himself to 
be suspected, has a right to evade questions that may militate 
against his interests; else would the boasted protection which 
ihe law so far throws around every one, that he need not be his 
own accuser, become a mere pretence." 



VO T HE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

" I shall endeavour to put my questions in such a way, as to 
give her the benefit of all her rights. Miss Monson, it is said 
that you have been seen, since the fire, to have some gold in your 
possession ; have you any objection to let that gold be seen by 
the juryT' 

" None in the world, sir. I have a few gold pieces — here 
they are, in my purse. They do not amount to much, either in 
numbers or value. You are at liberty to examine them as much 
as you please. '' 

Dunscomb bad betrayed a little uneasiness at this question ; 
but the calm, steady manner in which the young woman an- 
swered, and the coolness with which she put her purse into the 
coroner's hand, reassured, or rather surprised him. He remained 
silent, therefore, interposing no objection to the examination. 

" Here are seven half-eagles, two quarter-eagles, and a strange 
coin that I do not remember ever to have seen before," said the 
coroner. "What do you call this piece, Mr. Dunscomb?'' 

" I cannot tell you, sir ; I do not remember eve^' +o have seen 
the coin before, myself." 

" It is an Italian coin, of the value of about twenty dollars, 
they tell me," answered Mary, quietly. "I think it is called 
after the reigning sovereign, whoever he may be. I got it, in 
exchange for some of our own money, from an emigrant from 
Europe, and kept it as a thing a little out of the common way." 

The simplicity, distinctness, not to say nerve, with which this 
was said, placed Dunscomb still more at his ease, and he now 
freely let the enquiry take its course. All this did not prevent 
his being astonished that one so young, and seemingly so friend- 
less, should manifest so much coolness and self-possession, under 
circumstances so very trying. Such was the fiict, however ; and 
he was fain to await further developments, in order better to com- 
prehend the character of his client. 

"Is Mrs. Pope present?" enquired the coroner. "The lady 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 71 

who told US yesterday slie liad seen the specie of the late Mrs. 
Groodwin, during the life-time of the latter ?" 

It was almost superflous to ask if any particular person were 
present, as nearly all Biberry were in, or about, the court-house. 
Up started the widow, therefore, at this appeal, and coming for- 
ward with alacrity, she was immediately sworn, which she had 
not been the previous day, and went on the stand as a regular 
witness. 

" Your name ?" observed the coroner. 

"Abigail Pope — folks write ^relict of John Pope, deceased,' 
in all my law papers.'' 

" Very well, Mrs. Pope ; the simple name will suffice for the 
present purposes. Do you reside in this neighbourhood?" 

"In Biberry. I was born, brought up, married, became a 
widow, and still dwell, all within half-a-mile of this spot. My 
maiden name was Dickson." 

Absurd and forward as these answers may seem to most per- 
sons, they had an effect on the investigation that was then going 
on in Biberry. Most of the audience saw, and felt, the difference 
between the frank statements of the present witness, and the 
reserve manifested by the last. 

"Now, why couldn't that Mary Monson answer all these 
questions, just as well as Abigail Pope?" said one female talker 
to a knot of listeners. " She has a glib enough tongue in her 
head, if she only sees fit to use it ! I '11 engage no one can an- 
swer more readily, when she wishes to let a thing out. There 's 
a dreadful history behind the curtain, in my judgment, about 
that same young woman, could a body only get at it." 

" Mr. Sanford vnll get at it, before ho 'has done with her, I ']! 
engage," answered a friend. "I have heard it said he is the 
most investigating coroner in the state, when he sets about a case 
in good earnest. He '11 be very apt to make the most of this^ 
for we never have had anything one-half so exciting in Biberry, 



72 T [IE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

IS these murders ! I have long thought we were rather out of 
the way of the rest of the world, until now ; hut our time has 
301)10, and we shan't very soon hear the last of it V 

"It's all in the papers, already!" exclaimed a third. "Bi- 
berry looks as grand as York, or Albany, in the columns of every 
paper from town, this morning ! I declare it did me good to see 
our little place holding up its head among the great of the earth, 
as it might be " 

What else, in the way of local patriotism, may have escaped 
this individual, cannot now be known, the coroner drawing off 
her auditors, by the question next put to the widow. 

" Did you ever see any gold coins in the possession of the late 
Mrs. Goodwin?'^ asked that functionary. 

" Several times — I do n't know but I might say often. Five 
or six times, at least. I used to sew for the old lady, and you 
know how it is when a body works, in that way, in a family — it 's 
next thing, I do suppose, to being a doctor, so far as secrets go." 

" Should you know any of that coin were you to sec it again, 
Mrs. Pope?" 

"I think I might. There's one piece, in partic'lar, that I 
suppose I should know, anywhere. It 's a wonderful looking 
piece of money, and true Californy, I conclude." 

" Did any of Mrs. Goodwin's gold coins bear a resemblance to 
this?" showing a half-eagle." 

"Yes, sir — that's a five-dollar piece — I've had one of them 
myself, in the course of my life." 

" Mrs. Goodwin had coins similar to this, I then understand 
you to say?" 

" She had as many as fifty, I should think. Altogether, she 
told me she had as much as four hundred dollars in that stock- 
ing ! I remember the sum, for it sounded like a great deal for 
anybody to have, who was n't a bank, like. It quite put mo in 
mind of the place ers." 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 73 

"Was there any coin like tliis?" showing the widow the 
[tali an piece. 

" That 's the piece ! I 'd know it among a thousand ! I had 
it in my hands as much as five minutes, trying to read the 
Latin on it, and make it out into English. All the rest was 
American gold, the old lady told mc ; but this piece she said was 
foreign." 

This statement produced a great sensation in the court-room. 
Although iMrs. Pope was flippant, a gossip, and a little notorious 
for meddling with her neighbours' concerns, no one suspected her 
of fabricating such a story, under oath. The piece of gold passed 
from juror to juror; and each man among them felt satisfied that 
he would know the coin again, after an interval of a few weeks. 
Dunscomb probably put less faith in this bit of testimony, than 
any other person present; and he was curious to note its efi'ect 
on his client. To his great surprise, she betrayed no uneasiness ; 
her countenance maintaining a calm that he now began to appre- 
hend denoted a practised art ; and he manifested a desire to exa- 
mine the piece of gold for himself. It was put in his hand, and 
he glanced at its face a little eagerly. It was an unusual coin ; 
but it had no defect or mark that might enable one to distinguish 
between it and any other piece of a similar impres&ion. The 
coroner interpreted the meaning of his eye, and suspended the 
examination of the widow, to question Mary Monson herself. 

"Your client sees the state of the question, Mr. Dunscomb," 
he said ; " and you will look to her rights. Mine authorize me, 
as I understand them, to enquire of her concerning a few facts 
in relation to this piece of money." 

"I will answer your questions, sir, without any hesitation," 
the accused replied, with a degree of steadiness that Dunscomb 
deemed astonishing. 

" How long has this piece of gold been in your possession, if 
you please, Miss?" 

4 



74 T II E W A Y S O F T II E II O U R. 

"About a twelvemonth. I began to collect tlie gold I have, 
very nearly a year since/' 

"Has it been in your possession, uninterruptedly, all that 
time?'' 

" So far as I know, sir, it has. A portion of the time, and a 
large portion of it, it has not been kept in my purse ; but I should 
think no one could have meddled with it, when it has been else- 
where." 

" Have you anything to remark on the testimony just given ?" 

"It is strictly true. Poor Mrs. Goodwin certainly had the 
store of gold mentioned by Mrs. Pope, for she once showed it to 
me. I rather think she was fond of such things; and had a plea- 
sure in counting her hoards, and showing them to other persons. 
I looked over her coins } and finding she was fond of those that 
are a little uncommon, I gave her one or two of those that I hap- 
pened to own. No doubt, Mrs. Pope saw the counterpart of this 
piece, but sui-ely not the piece itself" 

"I understand you to say, then, that Mrs. Goodwin had a gold 
coin similar to this, which gold coin came from yourself. What 
did Mrs. Goodwin allow you in the exchange?" 

"Sir?" 

" How much did you estimate the value of that Italian piece 
at, and in what money did Mrs. Goodwin pay you for it? It is 
necessary to be particular in these cases." 

" She returned me nothing for the coin, sir. It was a present 
from me to her, and of course not to be paid for." 

This answer met with but little fivour. It did not appear to 
the people of Biberry at all probable that an unknown, and 
seemingly friendless young woman, who had been content to 
dwell two months in the "garret-room" of the "old Goodwin 
house," faring none of the best, certainly, and neglecting so 
many superior tenements and tables that were to be met with on 
every side of her, would be very likely to give away a piece of 



TIIEWAYSOF THE HOUR. <0 

gold of that unusual size. It is true, we are living in a mar- 
vellous age, so far as this metal is concerned; but the Califomian 
gold had not then arrived in any great quantity, and the people 
of the country are little accustomed to see anything but silver 
and paper, which causes them to attach an unwonted value to 
the more precious metal. Even the coroner took this view of 
the matter; and Dunscomb saw that the explanation just made 
by his client was thought to prove too much. 

"Are you in the habit. Miss, of giving away pieces of gold?*' 
asked one of the jurors. 

" That question is improper," interposed Mr. Dunscomb. " No 
one can have a right to put it.*' 

The coroner sustained this objection, and no answer was given. 
As Mrs. Pope had suggested that others, besides herself, had 
seen Mrs. Groodwin's stocking, four more witnesses were examined 
to this one point. They were all females, who had been ad- 
mitted by the deceased, in the indulgence of her passion, to feast 
their eyes with a sight of her treasure. Only one, however, of 
these four professed to have any recollection of the particular 
coin that had now become, as it might be, the pivoting point in 
the enquiry ; and her recollections were by no means as clear as 
those of the widow. She thought she had seen such a piece of 
gold in Mrs. Goodwin's possession, though she admitted she was 
not allowed to touch any of the money, which was merely held 
up, piece by piece, before her admiring eyes, in the hands of its 
proper owner. It was in this stage of the enquiry that Duns- 
comb remarked to the coroner, that " it was not at all surprising 
a woman who was so fond of exposing her treasure should be 
robbed and murdered V This remark, however, failed of its in- 
tended effect, in consequence of the manner in which suspicion 
had become riveted, as it might be, through the testimony of 
Mrs. Pope, on the stranger who had so mysteriously come to 
lodge with the Goodwins. The general impression now appeared 



7G THE WATS OF THE II O LMi. 

to be that the whole matter had been previously arranged, and 
that the stranger had come to dwell in the house expressly to 
ohtaln facilities for the commission of the crime. 

A witness who was related to the deceased, who was absent 
from home, but had been told, by means of the wires, to return, 
and who had intimated an intention to comply, was still wanting; 
and the inquest was again adjourned for an hour, in order to 
allow of the arrival of a stage from town. During this interval, 
Dunscomb ascertained how strongly the current was setting 
against his client. A hundred little circumstances were cited, in 
confirmation of suspicions that had now gained a fii-m footing, 
and which were so nearly general as to include almost every per- 
son of any consequence in the place. What appeared strangest 
to Dunscomb, was the composure of the young girl who was so 
likely to be formally accused of crimes so heinous. He had told 
her of the nature of the distrust that was attached to her situa- 
tion, and she received his statement with a degree of emotion 
that, at first, had alarmed him. But an unaccountable calmness 
ooon succeeded this burst of feeling, and he had found it neces- 
sary to draw confidence in the innocence of his client, from that 
strangely illuminated countenance, to study which was almost 
certain to subdue a man by its power. While thus gazing at the 
stranger, he could not believe her guilty ; but, while reflecting 
on all the facts of the case, he saw how difficult it might be to 
persuade others to entertain the same opinion. Nor were there 
circumstances wanting to shake his own faith in expression, sex, 
years, and all the other probabilities. Mary Monson had de- 
clined entering at all into any account of her previous life ; evaded 
giving her real name even to him ; carefully abstained from all 
allusions that might furnish any clue to her former place of abode, 
or to any fact that would tend to betray her secret. 

At the appointed hour the stage arrived, bringing the expected 
ffitncsjs. His testimony went merely to corroborate the accounts 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 77 

concerning the little hoard of gold that his kinswoman had unde- 
niably possessed, and to the cu'cumstance that she always kept it 
in a particular drawer of her bureau. The bureau had been saved, 
for it did not stand in the sleeping-room of the deceased, but had 
formed a principal embellishment of her little parlour, and the 
money was not in it. What was more, each drawer was carefully 
locked, but no keys were to be found. As these were articles 
not likely to be melted under any heat to which they might have 
been exposed, a careful but fruitless se«-rch had been made for 
them among the ruins. They were nowhere to be seen. 

About nine o'clock in the evening, the jury brought in the 
result of their inquest. It was a verdict of murder in the first 
degree, committed, in the opinion of the jurors, by a female who 
was known by the name of Mary Monson. With the accusation 
of arson, the coroner's inquest, as a matter of course; had no 
connection. A writ was immediately issued, and the accused 
arrcBted. 



78 THE WAY8 OF THK noTJPw 



CHAPTER V. 

" It was the English," Kasper cried, 

" Who put the French to rout ; 
But what they killed each other for, 

I could not well make out. 
But everybody said," quoth he, 
"That 'twas a famous victory!" 

Souihey. 

The following day, after an early breakfast, Dunscomb and biy 
friend tbe doctor were on tlieir way back to town. The foriaer 
had clients and courts, and tbe latter patients, wbo were not to 
be neglected, to say nothing of the claims of Sarah and Mrs 
Updyke. John and Michael remained at Biberry ; the first being 
detained there by divers commissions connected with the comforts 
and treatment of Mary Monson, but still more by his own incli- 
nations 'j and the last remaining, somewhat against his wishes, as 
a companion to the brother of her who so strongly drew him 
back to New York. 

As the commitment was for offences so serious, crimes as grave 
IS any known to the law, bail would not have been accepted, 
could any have been found. Wc ought not to speak with too 
much confidence, however, on this last point; for Dr. McBrain,a 
man of very handsome estate, the result of a liberal profession 
steadily and intelligently pursued, was more than half disposed 
to ofier himself for one of the sureties, and to go and find a 
second among his friends. Nothing, indeed, prevented his doing 



T 11 E W A Y S O F T II E II O U R. "79 

BO, but Dunscomb's repeated assurances that no bondsmen would 
be received. Even charming young women, when they stand 
charged with murder and arson, must submit to be incarcerated, 
until their innocence is established in due form of law ; or, what 
is the same thing in effect, until the caprice, impulses, ignorance, 
or corruption of a jury acquits them. 

The friends did not entirely agree in their manner of viewing 
this affair. The doctor was firmly impressed with the conviction 
of Mary Monson's innocence; while Dunscomb, more experienced 
in the ways of crime and the infii-mities of the human heart, had 
his misgivings. So many grounds of suspicion had occurred, or 
been laid open to his observation, during the hour of private 
communication, that it was not easy for one who had seen so 
much of the worst side of human nature, to cast them off under 
the mere influence of a graceful form, winning manner, and 
bright countenance. Then, the secondary facts, well established, 
and, in one important particular, admitted by the party accused, 
were not of a character to be overlooked. It often happens, and 
Dunscomb well knew it, that innocence appears under a repulsive 
exterior, while guilt conceals itself in forms and aspects so fair, 
as to deceive all but the wary and experienced. 

" I hope that the comfort of Miss Monson has been properly 
attended to, since she must be confined for a few days,'' said 
McBrain, while he took a last look at the little gaol, as the car- 
riage passed the brow of a hill. "Justice can ask no more 
than security." 

'' It is a blot on the character of the times, and on this country 
in particular,'' answered Dunscomb, coldly, "that so little atten 
fcion is paid to the gaols. We are crammed with false philan- 
thropy in connection with convicted rogues, who ought to be 
made to feel the penalties of their offences; while we are not even 
just in regard to those who are only accused, many of whom 
bre really ianocent. But for my interference, this delicate and 



80 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

friendless girl would, in all probability, have been immured in a 
;3ommon dungeon/^ 

"AVhat! before her guilt is established?" 

" llclatively, her treatment after conviction, would be far 
more humane than previously to that event. Comfortable, "v^oll- 
furnished, but secure apartments, ought to be provided for the 
accused in every county in the state, as acts of simple justice, 
before another word of mawkish humanity is uttered on the sub- 
ject of the treatment of recognised criminals. It is wonderful 
what a disposition there is among men to run into octaves, in 
everything they do, forgetting that your true melody is to be 
found only in the simpler and more natural notes. There is as 
much of the falsetto, now-a-days, in philanthropy, as in music." 

" And this poor girl is thrust into a dungeon V 

" No ; it is not quite as bad as that. The gaol has one decent 
apartment, that was fitted up for the comfort of a prize-fighter, 
who was confined in it not long since ; and as the room is sufii- 
cientl}^ secure, I have persuaded the gaoler's wife to put IMary 
Monson in it. Apart from loss of air and exercise, and the hap- 
piness of knowing herself respected and beloved, the girl will not 
be very badly off there. I dare say, the room is quite as good as 
that she occupied under the roof of those unfortunate Goodwins.'' 

" How strange, that a female of her appearance should have 
been the inmate of such a place ! She docs not seem to want 
money, either. You saw the gold she had in her purse V 

" Ay ) it were better had that gold not been there, or not seen. 
I sincerely wish it had been nothing but silver. '' 

" You surely do not agree with that silly woman, the AVidow 
Pope, as they call her, in believing that she has got the money 
of those persons who have been murdered?" 

" On that subject, I choose to suspend my opinion — I may, 
or I may not; as matters shall turn up. She has moneys 
ttud in sutlicient quantity to buy herself out of jeopardy. At 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 81 

least, she oflbrcd iiic a foe of a liuuJred dollarS; in good city 
paper." 

" Which you did not take, Tom?" 

" Why not ? It is my trade, and I live by it. Why not take 
her fee, if you please, sir ? Does the Widow Updyke teach you 
Buch doctrines ? Will you drive about town for nothing ? Why 
not take her fee, Mast<jr Ned?" 

"Why net, sure enough! That girl has bewitched uie, 1 
believe; and that is the solution." 

" I '11 tell you what, Ned, unless there is a stop put to this 
folly, I '11 make Mrs. Updyke ac(][uainted with the whole matter, 
and put an end to nuptials No. 3. Jack is head and cars in love, 
already; and here you are flying off at a tangent from all your 
engagements and professions, to fall at the feet of an unknown 
girl of twenty, who appears before you, on a first interview, in 
the amiable light of one accused of the highest crimes." 

" And of which I no more believe her guilty, than I believe 
you to be guilty of them." 

" Umph ! ' Time will show ;' which is the English, I suppose, 
of the ^nous verrons/ that is flying about in the newspapers- 
Yes, she has money to buy three or four journals, to get up a 
^ sympathy' in her behalf; when her acquittal would be ahiK^st 
certain, if her trial were not a legal impossibility. I am not sure 
it is not her safest course, in the actual state of the facts." 

" Would you think, Dunscomb, of advising any one who looked 
up to you for counsel, to take such a course ?" 

"Certainly not — and you know it, well enough, McBrain; 
but that does not lessen, or increase, the chances of the expedient. 
The journals have greatly weakened their own power, by the 
manner in which thoy have abused it; but enough still remains 
to hoodwink, not to say to overshadow, justice. The law is very 
explicit and far-sighted as to the consequences of allowing any one 
to influence the public mind in matters of its own administration ; 



82 T 11 ?: AV A V S OF T II K II O U K. 

but in a country like this, iu which the virtue and intelligence of 
the people ai*e said to be the yrimum mobile in everytliiiig, tliere 
JH no one to enforce the ordinances that the wisdom of our ances- 
tors li;is bequcalhed to us. Any editor of a newspaper who piib- 
llslu!S a sentence reflecting on the character or rights of a pjirty 
to a i)ending suit, is guilty, at common law, of what the books 
rail a 'libel on the courts of justice,' and can be punished f(>r it, 
jis for any other misdemeanor; yet, you can see for yourself, how 
little such a provision, healthful and most wise — nay, essential 
as it is to justice — is looked down by the mania which exists, of 
putting everything into print. AVhen one remembers that very 
little of what he reads is true, it is fearful to reflect that a system, 
of which the whole merit depends on its power to extract facts, 
and to do justice on their warranty, should be completely over- 
shadowed by another contrivance which, when stripped of its 
})re tension, and regarded in its real colours, is nothing more than 
one of the ten thousand schemes to make money that suiTound 
\is, with a litlU^ higher pretension than common to virtue." 
" ^ Completely overshadowed' are strong Avords, ])unscomb !" 
" Perhaps they are, and they may need a little qualifying. 
OvcrshadoAved often — much too often, however, is not a particle 
stronger than I am jiistificd in using. Every one, who thinks at 
all, sees and feels i\n) tmth of this; but here is the weak side 
of a popular government. The laws are enforced by means of 
public virtue, and ])iiblie virtue, like i)rivate virtue, is \Ci-y frail. 
We all are willing enough t(^ admit the last, as regards oui 
neighbours at least, while there seems to exist, in most minds, a 
species of idolatrous veneration for the common sentiment, as 
sheer a (piality of sIraAV, as any image of a lover draAvn by the 
nuist heated imagination of sixteen." 

" You surely do not disregard public opinion, Tom, or set it 
down as unworthy of all respect !" 

" By no means; if you mean that opinion which is the result 



niE WAYS OF TIIK HOUR. 83 

of (Icliboratc judgnicntj and lias a direct coniuiction witli our r(;li- 
gion, morals, and manners. That is a public opinion to which 
we all ought to defer, when it is fairly made up, and has been 
distinctly and independently pronounced; most especially when 
it comes from high quarters, and not from low. ]5ut the country 
is full of simulated public opinion, in the first place, and it is not 
always easy to tell the false from the true. Yes, the country is 
full of what I shall ctdl an artificial public opinion, that has bcsen 
got up to effect a purpose, and to that no wise man will defer, if 
ho can help it. Now, look at our scheme of administering jus- 
tico. Twelve men taken out of the bosom of the community, 
by a species of lottery, arc set apart to pronounce on your for- 
tune, or mine — nay, to utter the fearful words of ^guilty,' or 
' not guilty.' All the accessaries of this i)laii, as they exist ]\viv., 
make against its success. In the first place, the juroi'S are paid- 
and that just enough to induce the humblest on the list to scirve, 
and not enough to induce the educated and intelligent. It is a 
day-labourer's w^ages, and the day-labourer will be most likely to 
profit by it. IMen who arc content to toil for seventy-five ccMits 
a day are very willing to serve on juries for a dollar ; while those 
whose qualifications enable them to obtain enongli to pay their 
lin(!S, disregard the penalty, and stay away." 

" Why is not an evil as fiagrant as this nmuMUcd '/ J should 
think the whole bar would protest against it.'' 

"With what result? Who cares for the bar? Legislators 
alone can change this system, and men very different from those 
who are now sent must go to the legislature, before one is found, 
honest enough, or bold enough, to get up and tell the people 
they arc not all fit to be trust/cd. No, no ; this is not the way 
of the hour. We have a cycle in opinion to make, and it may 
be that when the round is fairly made, men may come back to 
their senses, and perceive the necessity of fencing in justice by 
some of the useful provisions that we are now so liberally throw- 



si T If E W A V H OF THE IH) V il. 

hv^ jiwiiy. To U'W you tbe truth, Ned, the state in submitting tc 
th(! influence of two of tlie silliest motives that c;iii govern men — 
ultra conservatism, and ultra progress; the one holding hack, 
f>l'(,en, to preserve that which is not worth keeping ; and the other 
' going ahead,' as it is termed, merely for the sake of boasting 
of their onward tendencies. Neither course is in the least suited 
to the actual wants of society, and each is pernicious in its way/' 

"It is thought, however, that when opinion thus struggles 
witb o})ini()n, a healthful compromise is made, in which society 
finds its advantage/' 

" The cant of mediocrity, depend on it, Ned. In the lirst place, 
there is no compromise about it ; one side or the other gains the 
victory; and as success is sustained ])y numbers, the conquerors 
j)ush Iheir Jidvantages to the ntmost. 1'h(>y think of their own 
gi'osser inlercsts, their passions ;nid ])r(Ju(lic('S, rather than of any 
* healthful compromise,' as you term it. What compromise is there 
in this infernMl code?" — Dunscomb was an ultra himself, in oppo- 
sition to a system that has a good deal of that which is useful, 
diluted l)y more lliaf. is not (piite so good — " or what in this 
matter of the eleclion of judges by the j)eo])le? As respects the 
last, for instane(;, had the tenure of ofliee bei'U made ^frood be- 
haviour,' Ihere would have; been sonietliing like aconiproniise; 
but, no — tl](! con(iu(!rors took all; and wliat is worse, the con- 
querors were actually a minority of the voters, so easy is it 
to cow even nundx^rs by political chicanery. In this respect, 
democracy is no more infallible, tlian any other fonn of govern- 
ment." 

"I confess, 1 do not see how this is shown, since tlie polls were 
free to every citizen." 

"The result fairly proves it. L(!ss than half of the known 
nund)or of the electors voted for the change. Now, it is absurd 
10 suppose that men who really and afilrmativcly wisluul a neve 
constitution would stay away from the polls." 



T II E WAYS U F T HE HOUR. 



85 



"More so, tlian to suppose tliat ihey wlio did not wiwb it, 
would stay away, too?" 

"More so; and for this reason. Thousands faneied it useless 
to stem the current of wliat they fancied a popular movenientj 
and were passive in the matter. Any man, of an extensive 
hcquaintance, may easily count a hundred such idlers. Then a 
good many stood on their legal rights, and refused to vote, bo- 
cause the manner of producing the change was a palpable viola- 
tion of a previous contract; the old constitution pointing out tho 
manner in which the instrument could be altered, which was not 
the mode adopted. Then tens of thousands voted for the new 
constitution, who did not know anything about it. They loved 
change, and voted for change's sake; and, possibly, with some 
vague notion that they Avere to be benefited by Tnaking the insti- 
tutions as popular as possible." 

"And is not this the tnith ? AV^ill not the mass be all the 
better off, by exercising as much power as they can ?" 

"No; and for the simple reason that masses cannot, in the 
nature of things, exercise more than a very litnited power. Vou, 
yourself, for instance, one of the mass, cannot exercise tljis very 
[Knver of choosing a judge, as it ought to be exercised, and of 
course are liable to do more harm than good." 

" The deuce I cannot ! Why is not my vote as goo<l as your 
own ? or that of any other man ?" 

" For the simple reason, that you are ignorant of the whole 
matter. Ask yourself the question, jmd answer it like an honest 
man : would you — could you, with the knowledge you possess, 
hiy your finger on any man in this community, and say, ' I make 
you a judge ?'" 

"Yes; my finger would be laid on you, in a minute." 

"Ah, Ned, that will do, as a frieiul ; but how would h do as 
u judicious selection of a judge you. do not know'/ 1 ou are 
ignorant of the law, and must necessarily be ignorant of the 



86 T 11 E W A Y S O F T II E II OUR. 

qualifiojitioiis of aiiy i)articulnr person to be an interpreter ot it. 
What is true of you, is equally true of a vast majority of thope 
wlio are now the electors of our judges." 

" I am not a little surprised, Tom, to hear you talk in this 
way; for you profess to he a democrat !'' 

"To the extent of giving the people all power, in the last 
resort — all power that they can intelligently and usefully use ; 
but not to the extent of permitting them to make the laws, to 
execute the laws, and to interpret the laws. All that the people 
want, is sufficient power to secure their liberties, which is simply 
such a state of things as shall secure what is right betYv^een man 
and man. Now, it is the want of this all-important security, in 
a practical point of view, of which I complain. Ivcly on it, Ned, 
the people gain nothing by exercising an authority that they do 
not know how to turn to good account. It were far better for 
them, and for tlie state, to confine themselves to the choice of 
general agents, of whose characters they may know something, 
and then confide all other powers to servants appointed by those 
named by these agents, holding all alike to a rigid responsibility. 
As for the judges, they will soon take decided party characters; 
and men will as blindly accuse, and as blindly defend theili, 
a,s tlicy now do their other leading partisans. AVhat between 
the bench Riid the jury-box, we shall short I3' t'^\)<\y '^ If'gjd pan- 
demonium." 

"Yet there are those who think the trial by jury is the palhir 
dium of our liberties.'^ 

Dunscomb laughed outright, for he recollected his conversiv 
tion with the young men, which we have already related. Then 
suppressing his risible propensity, he continued gravely — 

" Yes, one or two papers, well fee'd by this young woman's 
spare cash, might do her more good than any service I can ren- 
der her. I dare say the accounts now published, or soon to be 
published, will leave a strong bias against her'' 



T II E W W S F THE HOUR. 87 

" Why not fee a reporter as well as a lawyer, eh, T<jm ? 'I'hero 
18 110 great difference, as I can see." 

"Yes you can, and will, too, as soon as you look into tJio 
matter A lawyer is paid for a known and authorized assistance, 
tind the public recognises in him one engaged in the interests of 
his client, and accepts his statements and efforts accordingly. 
]>ut the conductor of a puhlic journal sets up a claim to strict 
impartiality, in his very profession, and should tell nothing but 
wliat he believes to be true, neither inventing nor suppressing. In 
bis facts, he is merely the publisher of a record; in his reason- 
ing, a judge; not an advocate.'^ 

The doctor now laughed, in his turn, and well he might ; few 
men being so ignorant as not to understand how far removed 
from all this are most of those who control the public journals. 

" After all, it is a tremendous power to confide to irresponsible 
men !" he exclaimed. 

"That it is, and there is nothing among us that so completely 
dcimonstratcs how far, very far, the public mind is in the rear of 
the facts of the country, than the blind, reckless manner in 
which the press is permitted to tyrannize over the community, in 
the midst of all our hosannas to the Goddess of Liberty. Be- 
cause, forsooth, what is termed a free press is useful, and hjis 
been useful in curbing an irresponsible, hereditary power, in 
other lands, we are just stupid enough to think it is of equal 
importance here, where no such power exists, and where all th.-it 
remains to be done, is to strictly maintain the equal rights of all 
classes of citizens. Did we understand ourselves, and our own 
real wants, not a paper should be printed in the state, that did 
not make a deposit to meet the legal penalties it might incur by 
the abuse of its trust. This is or was done in France, the country 
of all others that best respects equality of rights in theory, if not 
[n practice !" 

•' You surely would not place restrictions on the press !" 



88 THE WAYS OF THE }» O I U. 

" ] would though, and very severe restrictions, as salutaiy 
chocks on the ininicnsc power it wields. I woidd, for instance, 
forbid the publication of any statement Avliatcvcr, touching par- 
tics in the courts, whcllicr in civil or criminal cases, pending the 
actions, that the public mind might not be tainted, by design. 
Give the right to publish, and it will be, and is abused, and that 
most flagrantly, to meet the wishes of corruption. I tell you, 
Ned, as soon as you make a trade of news, you create a stock 
market that will have its rise and fall, under the impulses of fear, 
falsehood, and favour, just like your money transactions. It is 
a perversion of the nature of things, to make of news more than 
a simple statement of what has actually occurred.'-' 

^' It is surely natural to lie !" 

'' That is it, and this is tlie very reason Ave should not throw 
extraordinary protection around a thousand tongiu^s which speak 
by means of types, that we do not give to the natin-al member. 
The lie that is told by the press is ten thousand times a lie, in 
conij)arison with that which issues from the mouth of man." 

" ]5y George, Ttmi, if I had your views, I would see that some 
of this strange young woman's money should be used in sustain- 
ing her, by means of the agents you mention !" 

" That would never do. This is one of the cases in which 
*want of principle' has an ascendancy over * i)rinciple.' Tho 
upright num cannot consent to use improper instruments, while 
the dishonest fellows seize on them with avidity. So much tho 
greater, therefore, is the necessity for the law's watching tho 
interests of the first with the utmost jealousy. But, unfortu- 
nately, we run away with the sound, and overlook the sense of 
things." 

We have related this conversation at a length Avhich a certain 
class of our readers will probably find tedious, but it is necessary 
to a right comprehension of various features in the picture wc 
ire, ;d>out to draw. At the Stag's Head the friends stopped tf^ 



T II E W A Y 8 O F T II E II O U II 8i) 

l(^t the horses blow, and, while the animals were cooling them- 
scives imdcr the care of Stephen Hoof, McBrain's coachman, the 
gentlemen took a short walk in the hamlet. At several points, 
as the J moved along, they overheard the subject of the murders 
alluded to, and saw divers newspapers, in the hands of sundry 
individuals, who were eagerly perusing accounts of the same 
events ; sometimes by themselves, but oftencr to groups of atten- 
tive listeners. The travellers were now so near town us to be 
completely within its moral, not to say physical, atmosphere — 
being little more than a suburb of New York. On their return 
to the inn, the doctor stopped under the shed to look at his 
horses, before Stephen checked them up again, previously to a 
fresh start. Stephen was neither an Irishman nor a black ; but 
a regular, old-fashioned, jManhattannese coachman ; a class apart, 
and of whom, in the confusion of tongues that pervades that 
modern Babel, a few still remain, like monuments of the past, 
scattered along the Appian Way. 

"How do your horses stand the heat, Stephen?" the doctor 
kindly enquired, always speaking of the beasts as if they were 
the property of the coachman, and not of himself " Pill looks 
as if he had been well warmed this morning.^' 

*' Yes, sir, he takes it somewhat hotter than Poleus, in the 
spring of the year, as a gineral thing. Pill vill vork famously, 
if a body vill only give him his feed in vhat I calls a genteel 
vay ; but them 'ere country taverns has nothing nice about 'em, 
not even a clean manger ; and a town horse that is accustomed 
to a sweet stable and proper company, won't stand up to the rack 
as he should do, in one of their holes. Now, Poleus I calls a 
gineral feeder ; it makes no matter vith him vhether he is at 
home, or out on a farm — he finishes his oats; but it isn't so 
rith Pill, sir — his stomach is delicate, and the horse that don't 
get his proper food vill sweat, summer or vinter." 

" I sometimes think, Stephen, it might be better to take them 



y<> T II K W A V F! O F T HE IT O V R. 

both off Llieir oats for a few tlavs, and lot blood, perlia])s; tlioy say 
that tiio floaui is as good for a horse as the lancet is for a man." 

*n>(»n't (liink on' t, sir, 1 beg of yon! I'm sure they has 
doctor-stuff in their names, not to crowd ^cm down vith any 
more, jist as varm vcathcr is a scttin* in. Oats is physic enough 
for a liorso, and vhen the crcaturs vants anything more, sir, jirt 
leave 'em to me. I Ivuows as peculiar a drench as ever vas 
ponri'd down a vheeler's throat, vithout tronblin' that academy 
in i>aj-clay street, vlun-o so many gentlemen goes two or three 
times a veek, and vlun-e tliey do .say, so many goes in as never 
-wmes out whole." 

''Well, Ste}»hen, I '11 not interfere with your treatment, for 1 
(.'onCess to very litlle knowledge of the diseases of horses. What 
liave you got iu (he j^aper (here, that 1 see you have been 
reading r"' 

" Vhy, sir," answered Sti^pheu, scratching his head, 'Mt 's all 
about our alfair, u\) yonder." 

*H)ur affair! Oh! you mean the inquest, and the nuu'der. 
WvWf Avhat does the pa{K'r say about it, Hoof?" 

"It says it's a most ^thrilling a'count,' sir, and an 'awful 
bagedy'; and it venders vhat yomig vomen is a coming to, next. 
1 am pretty much of the same vay of thinking, sir, myself." 

'^ You are in the habit of thinking very nuich as the news- 
papt>rs do, are you not, Stephen ?" asked Dunseomb. 

" A^ell, 'Squire Dunscomb, you 've hit it 1 There is an onac- 
conntablo resemblance, like, in oiu* thoughts. I hardly ever set 
down to read a paper, that, afore I 've got half vay through it, I 
lind it thinking just as I do! It puzzles me to know how (hem 
that writes for these papcu's liuds out a body's thoughts so veil !" 

" They have a way of doing it; but it is too long a story to go 
over now. So this }>aper has something to say about our young 
woman, has it, Steithen'r' and it mentions the IJiberry business ?" 

"A good deal, 'S(|nire; and vhat 1 calls givvl sense, too 



T H iJ W A Y S OF THE HOUR. U 1 

Vhy, gentlemen, vhat shall we all come to, if young gals of 
fifteen can knock us in the Lead, matched, like, or in pairs, killing 
a whole team at one blow, and then set fire to the stables, and 
burn us up to our anatomies?'' 

" Fifteen ! Does your account say that Miss Monson is only 
fifteen, Hoof?" 

" * She appears to be of the tender age of fifteen, and is of 
extr'ornary personal attractions/ Them 's the worry vords, sir ; 
but perhaps you'd like to read it yourselves, gentlemen?" 

As Stephen made this remark, he very civilly offered the 
j(jurnal to Dunscomb, who took it; but was not disposed to drop 
the conversation just then to read it, though his eye did glance 
at the article, as he continued the subject. This was a habit 
with him ; his clerks often saying, he could carry the chains of 
arguments of two subjects in his mind at the same moment. His 
present object, was to ascertain from this man what might be the 
popular feeling in regard to his client, at the place they had just 
left, and the scene of the events themselves. 

" What is thought and said, at Eiberry, among those with 
whom you talked, Stephen, concerning this matter ?'' 

" That it 's a most awful ewent, 'Squire ! One of the worry 
vorst that has happened in these werry \qcked times, sir. I heard 
one gentleman go over all the murders that has taken place about 
York during these last ten years, and a pcrdigious sight on 'em 
there vas 3 so many, that I began to vender I vas n't one of the 
wictims myself; but he counted 'cm off on his fingers, and made 
this out to be one of the wcn-y vorst of 'em all, sir. lie did, 
indeed, sir." 

" ^V'ds he a reporter, Stephen ? one of the persons who are 
sent out by the papers to collect news?" 

" I believe he vfts, sir. Qiiite a gentleman ; and vith some- 
thing to say to all he met. lie often came out to the stables, 
and had a long conwcrsation vith as poor a feller as I be." 



T il E W AYS OF T II E I! O I' U 



" Pray, what could he have to say to you, Stepliou ?*' tic- 
Qianded the doctor, a little gravely. 

*' Oh ! lots of things, sir. lie began by praising the horses, 
and asking their names. I give him my names, sir, not youm ; 
for I thought ho might get it into print, somehow, that Dr. 
Mcl>rain calls his coach-horses after his physic, Till and Poleus" 
— "Bolus," was the real appellation that the owner had been 
pleased to give this beast; but as Stephen fancied the word had 
some connection with "pole-horse," he chose to pronounce it aa 
written — "Yes, I didn't vish //(U/r names to got into the papers, 
sir; and so I told him ^ Till' vas called ' ^larygoold,' and 
Toleus,' * Dandelion.' He promised an article about 'em, sir; 
and I give him the ages, blood, sires, and dams, of both the 
beauties. He told ine he thought the names delightful; and 
I 'm in hopes, sir, you *11 give up youm, arter all, and take to 
wme, altogether." 

" We shall see. And he promised an article, did he ?" 

" Yes, sir, quite woluntm-y. I kuow'd that the horses could n't 
be outdone, and told him as much as that ; for I thought, as the 
subject vas up, it might be as veil to do 'em all the credit 1 
could. Perhaps, vhen they gets to be too old for vork, you 
might vish to part vith 'em, sir, and then a good newspaper 
character could do 'em no great harm." 

Stephen was a particularly honest fellow, as io things in gene- 
ral; but he had the intu'mity which seems to be so general among 
men, that of a propensity to cheat in a transfer of hoi-se-flesh. 
Dunscomb was amused at this exhibition of character, of which 
he had seen so much in his day, and felt disposed to follow it up. 

"I believe you had some difficulty in choosing one of tho 
noi-ses, Stephen" — McBrain commissioned his coachman to do 
ill the bargtiining of this sort, and had nevt^i* lost a cent by his 
confidence — "Pill, I think it was, that didn't bring as good a 
character as he might have done?" 



THE AV A V S O F T 11 K II O If K . 03 

"Beg your pardon, ^Squire, 'twas n't he, but Marygoold. 
Vliy, the thing vas this : a gentleman of the church had bought 
Marygoold to go in a buggy; but soon vanted to part vith him, 
'cause of his shyin' in single harness, vhich frightened his vife, 
as he said. Now, all the difficulty vas in this one thing : not 
that I cared at all about the crcatui-'s shyin', vhich vas no great 
matter in double harness, you know, sir, and a body could soon 
COOK him out of the notion on it, by judgematical drivin' ; but 
the difficulty vas here — if the owner of a horse owned so much 
ag'in his character, there must be a great deal behind, that a 
feller must find out as veil as he could. I 've know'd a foun- 
dered animal put off under a character for shyin'." 

'^And the owner a clergyman, Stcplien?" 

" Perhaps not, sir. But it makes no great matter in tradin' 
horses; church and the vorld is much of a muchness." 

" Did that reporting gentleman ask any questions concerning 
the owner, as well as concerning the horses?" 

^^Yhy, yes, sir; vhen he vas done vith the animals, he did 
make a few obserwations about the doctor. He vanted to knovr 
if he vas married yet, and vhen it vas to happen ; and how much 
I thought he might be vorth, and how much Mrs. Updyke vas 
counted for; and if there vas children; and vhich house the 
family vas to live in ; and vhere he should keep the slate, artei 
the veddin' had come off; and how much the doctor's practice 
vas vorth; and vhether he vas vhig or locy ; and, most of ull, he 
vanted to know vhy he and you, sir, should go to Biberry about 
this murder." 

"What did you tell him, Stephen, in reference to the last?" 

"That could I, sir? I don't know, myself I 've druv' the 
Joctor often and often to see them that has died soon arter our 
wisit; but I never druv' him, afore, to wisit the dead. That 
gentleman seemed to think he vas much mistaken about (ht 
ykcletons; but it's all in the paper, sir." 



94 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

On hearing this, Dunscomb quickly turned to the columns of 
the journal' again, and was soon reading their contents aloud to 
his friend ; in the meantime, Stephen set Marygoold and Dan- 
delion in motion once more. 

The account was much as Dunscomb expected to find it ; so 
wiitten as to do no possible good, while it might do a great deal 
of harm. The intention was to feed a morbid feeling in the vul- 
gar for exaggerated accounts of the shocking — the motive being 
gain. Anything that would sell, was grist for this mill ; and the 
more marvellous and terrible the history of the event could be 
made, the greater was the success likely to be. The allusions to 
Mary Monson were managed with a good deal of address ; for, 
while there was a seeming respect for her rights, the reader was 
left to infer that her guilt was not only beyond a question, but 
of the darkest dye. It was while reading and commenting on 
these articles, that the carriage entered Broadway, and soon set 
Dunscomb down at his own door. There the doctor left it 5 
choosing to walk as far as Mrs. Updyke's, rather than give 
Stophen more materials for the reporter. 



THK WAYS OF THE UOUH 



CHAPTER VI. 

"Then none was for a party; 
Then all were for the state ; 
Tlien the great man help'd the poor, 
And the poor man lov'd the great: 
Then lands were fairly portion'd; 

Then spoils were fairly sold ; 
The Romans were like brothers 
In the brave days of old." 

Macaulay. 

Lt has been said that John Wilmeter was left by his uiicle itt 
Biberry, to look after the welfare of their strange client. John, 
or Jack, as he was commonly called by his familiars, including 
his pretty sister, was in the main a very good fellow, though far 
from being free from the infirmities to which the male portion 
of the human family are subject, when under the age of thirty. 
He was frank, manly, generous, disposed to think for himself, 
and what is somewhat unusual with his countrymen, of a tem- 
perament that led him to make up his mind suddenly, and was 
not to be easily swayed by the notions that might be momentarily 
floating about in the neighbourhood. Perhaps a little of a spirit 
of opposition to the feeling that was so rapidly gaining head in 
Biberry, inclined him to take a warmer interest in the singular 
female who stood charged with such enormous crimes, than he 
might otherwise have done. 

The instructions left by Mr. Dunscomb with his nephew, also 
gave the latter some uneasiness. In the first place, they had 



9o T II K W A V S OF T 11 E 11 C U ii. 

beeii very ample and thoughtful on the subject of the prisoner's 
comforts, which had been seen to in a way that is by no means 
(iominon in a gaol. Money had been used pretty freely in effect- 
mg this object, it is true; but, out of the large towns, money 
passes for much less on such occasions, in America, than in most 
other countries. The people are generally kind-hearted, and 
considerate for the wants of others ; and fair words will usually 
lo quite as much as dollars. Bunscomb, however, had made a 
rcry judicious application of both, and beyond the confinement 
and the fearful nature of the charges brought against her, Mary 
Monson had very little to complain of in her situation. 

The part of his instructions which gave John Wilmeter most 
uneasiness, w^hich really vexed him, related to the prisoner's in- 
nocence or guilt. The uncle distrusted; the nephew was all 
confidence. While the first had looked at the circumstances 
coolly, and was, if anything, leaning to the opinion that there 
might be truth in the charges ; the last beheld in Mary Monson 
an attractive young person of the other sex, whose innocent 
countenance was the pledge of an innocent soul. To John, it 
was preposterous to entertain a charge of this nature against one 
so singularly gifted. 

"I should as soon think of accusing Sarah of such dark 
offences, as of accusing this young lady.!'' exclaimed John to his 
friend Michael IMillington, while the two were taking their break- 
fast next day. " It is preposterous — wicked — monstrous, to sup- 
pose that a j'^oung, educated female, would, or could, commit such 
crimes ! Why, Mike, she understands French and Italian, and 
Spanish ; and I think it quite likely that she can also read Ger- 
man, if, indeed, she cannot speak it !" 

" How do you know this ? — Has she been making a display 
of her knowledge ?" 

" Not in the least — it all came out as naturally as possible. 
She a?kcd for some of her own books to read, and when thej 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 



97 



weix; brought to her, I found that she had selected works in all 
four of these languages. I was quite ashamed of my own igno- 
rance, T can assure you; which amounts to no more than a 
smatteimg of French, in the fiice of her Spanish, Italian and 
Grerman !'' 

"Poh! T shouldn't have minded it, in the least," Michael 
very coolly replied, his mouth being half-full of beefsteak. " The 
girls lead us in such things, of course. No man dreams of keep- 
ing up with a young lady who has got into the living languages. 
Miss Wilmcter might teach us both, and laugh at our ignorance, 
in the bargain.^' 

" Sarah ! Ay, yhe is a good enough girl, in her icay — but no 
more to be compared " 

Jack Wilmeter stopped short, for Millington dropped his knife 
with not a little clatter, on his plate, and was gazing at his friend 
in a sort of fierce astonishment. 

^' You do n't dream of comparing your sister to this unknown 
and suspected stranger !" at length Michael got out, speaking 
very much like one whose head has been held under water until 
his breath was nearly exhausted. "You ought to recollect, 
John, that virtue should never be brought unnecessarily in con- 
tiict with vice.^' 

" Mike, and do you, too, believe in the guilt of Mary Monson ?'' 

" I believe that she is committed under a verdict given by an 
inquest, and think it best to suspend my opinion as to the main 
fjxjt, in waiting for further evidence. Remember, Jack, how 
often your uncle has told us that, after all, good witnesses were 
the gist of the law. Let us wait and see what a trial may bring 
forth.'' 

Young Wilmeter covered his face with his hands, bowed his 
head to the table, and ate not another morsel that morning. 
His good sense admonished him of the prudence of the advice 
just given; while feelings, impetuous, and excited almost ta 

5 



98 T n E W A V S OF T HE 110 U li . 

fierceness, impelled liim to go forth and war on all who denied 
the innocence of the accused. To own the truth, John Wilnictei 
was fast heconiino; entangled in the meshes of love. 

And, sooth to say, notwithstanding the extreme awkwardness 
of her situation, the angry feeling that was so fast rising up 
against her in Bibcrry and its vicinity, and the general mystery 
that concealed her real name, character and history, there Wiis 
that about Mary Monson, in her countenance, other personal ad- 
vantages, and most of all in her manner and voice, that might 
well catch the fancy of a youth of warm feelings, and through 
his fancy, sooner or later, touch his heart. As yet, John was 
only under the influence of the new-born sentiment, and had he 
now been removed from Biberry, it is probable that the feelings 
and interest which had been so suddenly and powerfully awa- 
kened in him would have passed away altogether, or remained 
in shadow on his memory, as a melancholy and yet pleasant 
record of hours past, under cu'cumstances in which men live fast, 
if they do not always live well. Little did the uncle think of 
the great danger to which he exposed his nephew, when he 
placed him, like a sentinel in law, on duty near the portal of hit 
immured client. But the experienced Dunscomb was anxious tc 
bring John into active life, and to place him in situations that 
might lead him to think and execute for himself; and it had beer 
much his practice, of late, to put the young man forward, when 
ever circumstances would admit of it. Although the counsello. 
was more than at his ease in fortune^ and John and Sarah each 
possessed very respectable means, that placed them altogether 
above dependence, he was exceedingly anxious that his nephew 
should succeed to his own business, as the surest mode of secur- 
ing his happiness and respectability in a community where the 
number of the idle is relatively so small as to render the pursuits 
of a class that is by no means without its uses, where it can be 
made to serve the ti^^tes and manners of a country, difficult of 



THE WAYS OF T HE II O U R. {)9 

attainment. He had the same desire in behalf of his niece, oi 
that she should become the wife of a man who had something tc 
Jo; and the circumstance that Millington, though of highly 
reputable connections, was almost entirely without fortune, was 
no objection in his eyes to the union that Sarah was so obviously 
inclined to form. The two young men had been left on the 
ground, therefore, to take care of the interests of a client whonj 
Dunscomb was compelled to admit was one that interested him 
more than any other in whose services he had ever been em- 
ployed, strongly as he was disposed to fear that appearances 
might be deceitful. 

Our young men were not idle. In addition to doing all that 
was in their power to contribute to the personal comforts of Miss 
Monson, they were active and intelligent in obtaining, and 
making notes of, all the facts that had been drawn out by the 
coroner's inquest, or which could be gleaned in the neighbour- 
hood. These facts, or rumours, John classed into the "proved,'' 
the "reported,'^ the "probable" and the "improbable;" accom- 
panying each division with such annotations as made a very use- 
ful sort of brief for any one who wished to push the inquiries 
further. 

"There, Millington," he said when they reached the gaol, on 
their return from a walk as far as the ruins of the house which 
had been burnt, and after they had dined, " there ; I think we 
have done tolerably well for one day, and are in a fair way to give 
uncle Tom a pretty full account of this miserable business. The 
more I see and leai-n of it, the more I am convinced of the perfect 
mnocence of the accused. I trust it strikes you in the same 
-^ay, Mike?" 

But jMike was by no means as sanguine as his friend. He 
:>miled faintly at this question, and endeavoured to evade a direct 
answer. He saw how lively were the hopes of Tom, and 
bow deeply his feelings were getting to be interested in thr 



100 1 II E W A Y S O i«^ T HE II O U II. 

matter, while liis own judgment, influenced, perhaps, by Mr. 
Dunscomb's example, greatly inclined him to the worst forebod. 
ing of the result. Still he had an honest satisfaction in saying 
anything that might contribute to the gratification of Sarah's 
brother, and a good opportunity now offering, he did not let it 
escape him. 

" There is one thing, Jack, that seems to have been strangely 
overlooked," he said, "and out of which some advantage may 
come, if it be thoroughly sifted. You may remember it was 
stated by some of the witnesses, that there was a German woman 
in the fomily of the Goodwins, the day that preceded the fire — 
one employed in housework?" 

" Now you mention it, I do ! Sure enough ; what has be- 
come of that woman?" 

"While you were drawing your diagram of the ruins, and 
projecting your plan of the out-buildings, garden, fields and so 
on, I stepped across to the nearest house, and had a chat with 
the ladies. You may rememher I told you it was to get a drink 
of milk ; but I saw petticoats, and thought something might be 
learned from woman's propensity to talk ?" 

" I know you left me, but was too busy, just then, to see on 
what errand, or whither you went." 

" It was to the old stone farm-house that stands only fifty rods 
from the ruins. The fimiily in possession is named Burton, and 
a more talkative set I never encountered in petticoats." 

"How many had you to deal with, Mike?" John enquired, 
rjuning his eyes over his notes as he asked the question, in a 
way that showed how little he anticipated from this interview 
with the Burtons. " If more than one of the garrulous set ] 
pity you, for I had a specimen of them yesterday morning myseli 
m a passing interview." 

" There were three talkers, and one silent body. As is usual, 
[ thought that the silent member of the house knew more thi^xi 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 101 

the speakers; if she had l^een inclined to let out her know 
ledge." 

'^ Ay, that is a way we have of judging of one another; but it 
is as often false as true. As many persons are silent because 
they have nothing to say, as because they are reflecting ; and of 
those who look very wise, about one-half, as near as I can judge, 
look so as a sort of apology for being very silly.'' 

" I can't say how it was with Mrs. Burton, the silent member 
of the family, in this case 3 but I do know that her three worthy 
fiisters-in-law arc to be classed among the foolish virgins.'' 

" Had they no oil to trim their lamps withal ?" 

" It had all been used to render their tongues limber. Never 
did three damsels pour out words in so full a rivulet, as I was 
honoured with for the first five minutes. By the end of that 
time, I was enabled to put a question or two ; after which they 
were better satisfied to let me interrogate, while they were con- 
tent to answer." 

" Did you learn anything, Mike, to reward you for all this 
trouble?" again glancing at his notes. 

" I think I did. With a good deal of difficulty in eliminaling 
the surplussage, if I may coin a word for the occasion, I got these 
facts : — It would seem that the German woman was a newly- 
arrived immigi-ant, who had strolled into the country, and ofi:cred 
to work for her food, &c. Mrs. Goodwin usually attended to all 
her own domestic matters; but she had an attack of the rheuma- 
tism that predisposed her to receive this offer, and that so much 
the more willingly, because the ^ help' was not to be paid. It 
appears that the deceased female was an odd mixture of miserly 
propensities with a love of display. She hoarded all she could 
lay her hands on, and took a somewhat uncommon pleasure in 
showing her hoards to her neighbours. In consequence of this 
last weakness, the whole neighbourhood knew not only of her 
gold, for she turned every coin into that metal, before it waa 



102 THE WAYS OF THE HOVn. 

consigned to lier stocking ; but of the amount to a dollar, aLd 
the place where she kept it. In this all agreed^ even tc the 
silent matron/' 

"And what has become of this German woman ?" asked John, 
closing his notes with sudden interest. " "Why was she not ex- 
amined before the inquest? and where is she now ?'' 

" No one knows. She lias been missing ever since the lire 
and a few fancy that she may, after all, be the person who has 
done the whole mischief. It docs wciu* a strange look, that no 
trace can be heard of her!'' 

" This must be looked into closely, IMike. It is unaccountably 
strange that more was not said of her before the coroner. Yet, 
I fear one thing, too. Pr. IMeBrain is a man of the highest 
attainments as an anatomist, and you will remember that he 
inclines to the opinion that both the skeletons belonged to 
females. Now, it may turn out that this German woman's 
remains have been found ; which will put her guilt out of the 
question." 

" Surely, Jack, you would not be soiTy to have it turn out 
that any human being should be innocent of such crimes \" 

" By no means ; though it really does seem to me more pro- 
bable that an unknown straggler should be the guilty one in this 
case, than an educated young female, who has every claim in the 
way of attainments to be termed a lady. Besides, Michael, these 
German immigi-ants have brought more than their share of crime 
among us. Look at the reports of murders and robberies for the 
last ten years, and you will find that an undue proportion of them 
have been committed by this class of immigrants. To me, no- 
thing appears more probable than this affair's being traced up to 
that very v>'oman." 

" I own you are riglit, in saying what you do of the Germans. 
But it should be remembered, that some of their states are said 
{)o have adopted the policy of sending their rogues to America. 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 103 

ft* England were to attempt that, now, I fancy Jonathan would 
hardly stand it I" 

^* lie ought not to stand it for an hour, from any nation on 
earth. If there ever was a good cause for war, this is one. Yes, 
yes; that German immigrant must be looked up, and examined/' 

Michael 'Millington smiled faintly at John Wilmeter's dis- 
position to believe the worst of the High Dutch ; touching the 
iVailties of whom, however, neither of the two had exaggerated 
anything. Far more than their share of the grave crimes of this 
country have, within the period named, been certainly committed 
by immigrants from Germany; whether the cause be in the 
reason given, or in national character. This is not according to 
ancient opinion, but we believe it to be strictly according to fact. 
The Irish arc clannish, turbulent, and much disposed to knock 
each other on the head ; but it is not to rob, or to pilfer, but to 
quarrel. The Englishman will pick your pocket, or commit bur- 
glary, when inclined to roguery, and frequently he has a way of 
his own of extorting, in the way of vails. The Frenchmen may 
well boast of their freedom from wrongs done to persons or pro- 
perty in this country ; no class of immigrants furnisliing to the 
prisons, comparatively, fewer criminals. The natives, out of all 
proportion, are freest from crime, if the blacks be excepted, and 
when wc compare the number of the convicted with the number 
of the people. Still, such results ought not to be taken as fur- 
nishing absolut<3 rules by which to judge of large bodies of men ; 
since unsettled lives on the one hand, and the charities of life 
on the other, may cause disproportions that would not otherwise 
exist. 

If one of these skeletons be that of the German woman, and 
Dr. IMcBrain should prove to be right,'' said John Wilmeter, 
earnestly, "what has become of the remains of Mr. Goodwin? 
There was a husband as well as a wife, in that family." 

" Yi^Yy true," aaswercd Millington; "and I learned something 



iOi TIIK WAYS Of THE IJ O U R. 

concerning Lini, too. It seems that the old fellow drank intensely, 
■it times, when he and his wife made the honse too hot to hold 
them. All the IJurtons agi-eed in giving this account ot the 
good couple. The failing was not generally kno■\^^l, and had not 
yet gone so far as to affect the old man's general characterj though 
it would seem to have been known to the immediate neighbours." 

"And not one word of all this, is to be found in any of the 
reports in the papers from town ! Not a particle of testimony on 
the point before the inquest ! Why, Mike, this single fiict may 
furnish a clue to the whole catastrophe." 

" In what way?" Millington very quietly enquired. 

"Those bones are the bones of females; old Goodwin has 
robbed the house, set fii-e to it, murdered his wife and the Ger- 
man woman in a drunken frolic, and run away. Here is a his- 
tory for Uncle Tom, that will delight him; for if he do not feel 
quite certain (»f Mary Monson's innocence now, he would be do- 
lighted to learn its truth !" 

" You make much out of a very little. Jack, and imagine far 
more thaii you can prove. Why should old Goodwin set fire to 
his oAvn house — for I understand the property was his — steal his 
own money — for, though married women did then hold a sepa- 
rate estate in a bed-quilt, or a gridiron, the law could not touch 
the previous accumulations of a feme coverte — and murder a 
poor foreigner, who could neither give nor take away anything 
that the building contained ? Then he is to burn his own house, 
and make himself a vagrant in his old age — and that among 
strangers! I learn he was born in that very house, and has 
passed his days in it. Such a man would not be very lilvely to 
destroy it.'' 

" Why not, to conceal a murder ? Crime must be eoncealetl, 
or it is punished." 

"Sometimes," retiinKul IMichael, drily. "This ^RTnry Moii- 
Bou will be hanged, out of all question, should the case go against 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 1 Oo 

hor, for she uuderstands French, and Italian, and German, you 
say; cither of which tongues would be sufficient to hang hcrj 
but had old JMrs. Goodwin murdered her, philanthropy would 
have been up and stirring, and no rope would be stretched/' 

' Millington, you have a way of talking, at times, that is quite 
Bhocking ! I do wish you could correct it. What use is there 
in bringing a young lady like Miss Monson down to the level of 
a common criminal?'' 

" She will be brought down as low as that, depend on it, if 
guilty. There is no hope for one who bears about her person, 
\x\ air, manner, speech, and deportment, the unequivocal signs of 
a lady. Our sympathies are all kept for those who are less set 
apart from the common herd. Sympathy goes by majorities, as 
well as other matters." 

"You think her, at all events, a lady?" said John, quickly. 
" How, then, can you suppose it possible that she has been guilty 
of the crimes of which she stands accused ?" 

" Simply, because my old-fashioned father has given me old- 
fashioned notions of the meaning of terms. So thin-skinned 
have people become lately, that even language must be perverted 
to gi'atify their conceit. The terms 'gentleman' and Mady' have 
as defined meanings as any two words we possess — signifying 
persons of cultivated minds, and of certain refinements in tastes 
and manners. Morals have nothing to do with either, neces- 
sarily, as a 'gentleman' or 'lady' may be very wicked; nay, 
often are. It is true there are particular acts, partaking of mean- 
nesses, rather than anything decidedly criminal, that, by a con- 
vention, a gentleman or lady may not commit ; but tliere are a 
hundred others, that are fiir worse, which are not prohibited. It 
[s unlady-like to talk scandal ; but it is not deemed always un- 
lady-like to give grounds' to scandal. Here is a bishop who has 
lately been defining a gentleman, and, as usually happens with 
yuch men, unless they were originally on a level with theij 



106 T H E -W A V S O ¥ T II K 11 O U K . 

dioceses, he describes a H^liristiau/ rather than a 'gentleman.' 
This notion of making converts by means of enlisting our vanitjil 
and self-love in the cause, is but a weak one, at the best." 

*' Certainly, ]Mike ; I agree "with you in the main. As large 
classes of polished people do exist, who have loose enough notions 
of morals, there ought to be terms to designate them, as a class, 
as well as to give any other ntuue, Avhen we have the thing. 
ITse has applied those of 'gentlemen' and 'ladies,' and I can see 
no sufficient reason for changing them." 

"It comes wholly from the longings. of human vanity. As a 
certain distinction is attached to the term, everybody is covetous 
of obtaining it, and all sorts of reasoning is resorted to, to drag 
them into the categories. It would be the same, if it were a 
ground of distinction io have but one ear. But this distinction 
will be very likely to make things go hard with our client, Jack, 
if the jury say 'guilty*." 

" The jury never can — never will render such a verdict I 1 
do not think the grand jury will even return a bill. AVhy should 
tliey ? The testimony woidd n't convict an old state-prison-bird." 

Michael Millington smiled, a little sadly, perhaps — for John 
Wilmeter was Sarah's only brother — but he made no reply, per- 
ceiving that an old negro, named Sip, or Scijno, who lived about 
the jail by a sort of suiVerance, and who had now been a volun- 
tiiry adherent of a place that was usually so unpleastint to men 
of his class for many years, was approaching, as if he were the 
bearer of a message. Sip was an old-school black, grey-headed, 
and had seen more than his three-score years and ten. No 
wonder, then, that his dialect partook, in a considerable degree, 
of the peculiarities that were once so marked in a 3Ianhattan 
a uigger." Unlike his brethren of the present day, he was cour- 
tesy itself to all "gentlemen," while his respect for "common 
folks" was a good deal more equivocal. But chiefly did the old 
man despise " yaller fellers;" these he regarded as a mongre' 



THE \V A Y B () F T H K HOUR. 107 

nwX;, wlio could neither aspire to the pure coinploxiori of the Cir* 
oussiiiii stock, nor lay claim to the glistening dye of Africa. 

"Mrs. Gott, she want to sec masser/' said Scipio, Ixjwing to 
John, grinning — for a negro seldom loses his teeth — and turning 
civilly t() Millington, with a respectful inclination of a head that 
was as wdiite as snow. "Yes, sah; she want to see masser, soon 
as conbc'nent ; and soon as he can come." 

Now, Mrs. Gott was the wife of the sheriff, and, alas ! for the 
dignity of the office ! the sheriff wji-s the keeper of tjie county gaol. 
This is one of the fruits bom on the wide-spreading branches of 
the tree of democracy. Formerly, a New York sheriff bore a 
strong resemblance to his English namesake. He was one of the 
county gentry, and executed the duties of his office with an air 
and a manner ; appeared in court with a sword, and carried with 
his name a weight and an authority, that now are nearly wanting. 
Such njcn would scarcely become gaolers. ]iut that universal 
root of all evil, the love of money, made the discovery that there 
was profit to be had in feeding the prisoners, and a lower class 
of men aspired to the offices, and obtained them ; since wdiich 
time, more than half of the sheriffs of New Yoi-k have been their 
own gaolers. 

"Do jou know ?/% Mrs. Gott wishes to see me, Scipio?'' de- 
manded Wilmeter. 

" I b'lieve, sah, dat 'e young wojnan, as nmrders ole Masser 
Goodwin and he wife, ask her to send for masser.'' 

This was plain enough, and it caused Jack a severe pang ; for 
it showed how conclusively and unsparingly the popular mind 
had made up its opinion touching Mary Monson's guilt. There 
was no time to be lost, however; and the young man hastened 
towards the building to which the gaol w^as attached, both stand- 
ing quite near the eourt-hbuse. In the door of what was her 
dwelling, for the time-being, stood Mrs. Gott, the wife of the 
high sheriff of the county, and the only person in all Bibeny 



108 THE WAYS OF THE HOCK. 

who, as it appeared to John, entertained liis own opinions of the 
innocence of the accused. But Mrs. Gott was, by nature, a kind- 
hearted woman ; and, though so flagi-antlj out of place in her 
united characters, was just such a person as ought to have the 
charge of the female department of a prison. Owing to the con- 
stant changes of the democratic principle of rotation in office, 
one of the most impudent of all the devices of a covetous envy, 
this woman had not many months before come out of th(^ bosom 
of society, and had not seen enough of the ways of her brief 
and novel situation to have lost any of those qualities of her sex, 
such as extreme kindness, gentleness of disposition, and feminine 
feeling, that are anj^thing but uncommon among th^ women of 
America. In many particulars, she would have answered the 
imaginative bishop's description of a "lady;" but she would 
have been sadly deficient in some of the requisites that the 
opinions of the world have attached to the character. In these 
last particulars, Mary Monson, as compared with this worthy 
matron, was like a being of another race } though, as respects 
the first, we shall refer the reader to the events to be hereafter 
related, that ho may decide the question according to his own 
judgment. 

"Mary Monson has sent for you, Mr. Wilmeter,'' the good 
Mrs. Gott commenced, in a low, confidential sort of tone, as if 
she imagined that she and John were the especial guardians of 
this unknown and seemingly ill-fated young woman's fortunes. 
"She is wonderfully resigned and patient' — a great deal more 
patient than I should be, if I was obliged to live in this gaol — 
that is, on the other side of the strong doors ; but she told me, 
an hour ago, that she is not sure, after all, her imprisonment i^ 
not the very best thing that could happen to her V 

"That was a strange remark!" returned John. "Did sht! 
make it under a show of feeling, as if penitence, or any other 
strong emotion, induced her to utter it?" 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 109 

" With as sweet a smile, as composed a manner, and as gontlo 
and soft a voice as a body ever sees, or listens to ! What a won- 
derfully soft and musical voice she has, Mr. Wilmeter!" 

" She has, indeed. I was greatly struck with it, the moment 
I heard her speak. How much like a hady, Mrs. Gott, she uses 
it — and how correct and well-pronounced are her words V 

Although Mrs. Gott and John Wilmeter had very diiferent 
ideas, at the bottom, of the requisites to form a lady, and the 
pronunciation of the good woman was by no means faultless, she 
cordially assented to the truth of the young man's eulogy. In- 
deed, Mary Monson, for the hour, was her gi'cat theme ; and, 
though still a young woman herself, and good looking withal, 
she really seemed never to tire of uttering her praises. 

" She has been educated, Mr. Wilmeter, far above any female 

hereabout, unless it may be some of the s and s,'' 

the good woman continued. " Those fimiilies, you know, are our 
upper crust — not upper ten thousand, as the newspapers call it, 
but upper hundred, and their ladies may know as much as JMary ; 
but, beyond them, no female hereabouts can hold a candle to her ! 
Her books have been brought in, and I looked them over — there 
is n't more than one in three that I can read at all. What is 
more, they don't seem to be all in one tongue, the foreign books, 
but in three or four!" 

" She certainly has a knowledge of several of the living Ian* 
guages, and an accurate knowledge, too. I know a little of such 
things myself, but my friend Millington is quite strong in both 
the li\dng and dead languages, and he says that what she knows 
she knows well.^' 

" That is comforting — for a young lady that can speak so 
many different tongues would hardly think of robbing and mur 
dering two old people, in their beds. Well, sir, perhaps you had 
better go to the door and see her, though I could stay here and 
talk about her all day. Pray Mr. Wilmeter, which of the Ian 
juages is reall}'' dead?" 



110 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR 

Jolin suiiled, but civilly enlightened the sheriff's lady on thij; 
point, and then, preceded by her, he went to the important door 
which separated the dwelling of the family from the rooms of the 
gaol. Once opened, an imperfect communication is obtained 
with the interior of the last, by means of a gi-ating in an inner 
door. The gaol of Dukes county is a recent construction, and is 
built on a plan that is coming much into favour, though still 
wanting in the highest proof of ci\alization, by sufficiently sepa- 
rating criminals, and in treating the accused with a proper degree 
of consideration, until the verdict of a jury has pronounced them 
guilty. 

The construction of this gaol was very simple. A strong, low, 
oblong building had been erected on a foundation so filled in 
with stones as to render digging nearly impossible. The floors 
were of large, massive stones, that ran across the whole building 
a distance of some thirty feet, or if there were joints, they were 
under the partition walls, rendering them as secure as if solid. 
The cells were not large, certainly, but of sufficient size to admit 
of light and air. The ceilings were of the same enormous flat 
stones as the floors, well secured by a load of stones, and beams 
to brace them, and the partitions were of solid masonry. There 
the prisoner is encased in stone, and nothing can be more hope- 
less than an attempt to get out of one of these cells, provided the 
gaoler gives even ordinary attention to their condition. Above 
and around them are erected the outer walls of the gaol. The 
last comprise an ordinary stone house, with roof, windows, and 
the other customary appliances of a human abode. As these 
walls stand several feet without those of the real prison, and are 
somewhat higher, the latter are an imperium in iniperio ; a house 
within a house. The space between the walls of the two build- 
ings forms a gallery extending around all the cells. Iron grated 
gates divide the several parts of this gallery into so many com- 
partmcnts, and in the gaol of Eiberry care has been had so tc 



THE WAYS OF THE H O C H. 



Ill 



arrange these subdivisions that those within anyone compartment 
may be concealed from those in all of the others, but the two 
that immediately join it. The breezes are admitted by means of 
the external windows, while the height of the ceiling in the gal- 
leries, and the space above the tops of the cells, contribute largely 
to comfort and health in this important particular. As the 
doors of the cells stand opposite to the windows, the entire gaol 
can be, and usually is, made airy and light. Stoves in the gal- 
leries preserve the temperature, and eifectually remove all dis- 
agreeable moisture. In a word, the place is as neat, convenient, 
and decent as the gaol of convicts need ever to be ; but the proper 
sort of distinction is not attended to between them and those who 
are merely accused. Our civilization in this respect is defective. 
While the land is filled with senseless cries against an aristocracy 
which, if it exist at all, exists in the singular predicament of being 
far less favoured than the democracy, involving a contradiction 
in terms; against a feudality that consists in men's having bar- 
gained to pay their debts in chickens, no one complaining in 
behalf of those who have entered into contracts to do the same in 
wheat; and against rcrJ, while usury is not only smiled on, but 
encouraged, and efforts are made to legalize extortion ; the public 
mind is quiet on the subject of the treatment of those whom the 
policy of government demands should be kept in security until 
their guilt or innocence be established. What reparation, under 
such circumstances, can be made to him to whom the gates are 
finally opened, for having been incarcerated on charges that are 
groundless? The gaols of the Christian world were first con- 
structed by an irresponsible power, and to confine the weak. We 
imitate the ^ices of the system with a cool indifference, and shout 
"feudality" over a bantam, or a pound of butter, that are paid 
ander contracted covenants for rent ! 



1 IJ r M K \v A V s u K tup: j: o u :i. 



CHAPTER VII 

' Sir, this is the houec ; please it you, tluU I call ?'* 

Taviing of th\ Shrmt, 

Tin: graa-J M-iiidow -wliieli John AVilmetor now approached, com- 
iiKuuled nearly an entire view of the gallery that conmumicated 
with the cell of ]Mary iM<inson. It also commanded a partial 
view of the /?ell itself. As he looked through the grates, he saw 
how neat and comfortable the last had been made by means of 
IMrs. Ciott's care, aided, doubtless, by some of the prisoner's 
money — that gold which was, in fact, the strongest and only 
very material circumstance against her. IMrs. Gott had put a 
carpet in the cell, and divers pieces of furniture that were useful, 
as well as two or three that were intended to be ornamental, ren- 
dering the otherAvise gloomy little apartment tolerably cheerful. 
The gallery, nnieh to John's surprise, had been furnished, alsa 
Pieces of new carpeting were laid on the flags, chaii's and tabic 
had been provided, and among other articles of this nature, waa 
a very respectable looldng-glass. Everything appeared new, and 
as if just sent from the diflercnt shops where the various articles 
were sold. Wilmeter fancied that not less than a hundred dollars 
had been expended in furnishing that g:illery. The cfll^ct was 
surprising; taking away from the place its chilling, jail-like air, 
and giving to it, what it had never possessed before, one of house- 
hold comfort 

JMary IMonson was walking to and fro, in this gallery, with 
rilow, though.tful steps, her head a little bowed^ and her hand? 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. llJi! 

luiDging before her, with the fingers interlocked. So completely 
was she lost in thought, that John's footstep, or presence at the 
grate, was not observed, and he had an opportunity to watch her 
for near a minute, unseen himself. The occupation was not 
exactly excusable ; but, under all the circumstances, young Wil- 
meter felt as if it might be permitted. It was Iiis duty to ascer- 
tiiin all he fairly might, concerning his client. 

It has already been said that this strange girl, extraordinary 
by her situation as a person accused of crimes so heinous, and 
perhyps still more so by lier manner of bearing up against the 
terrors and mortifications of her condition, as well as by the mys- 
tery which so completely veiled her past lii\3, was not a beauty, 
in the common acceptation of the term. Nevertheless, not one 
female in ten thousand would sooner ensnare the heart of a 
youth, by means of her personal attractions alone. It was not 
regularity of features, nor brilliancy of complexion, nor lustre of 
the eyes, nor any of the more ordinary charms, that gave her 
this power; but an indescribable union of feminine traits, in 
which intellectual gifts, spirit, tenderness, and modesty, were so 
singularly blended, as to leave it questionable which had the 
advantage. Her eyes were of a very gentle and mild expression, 
when in a state of rest; excited, they were capable of opening 
windows to the inmost soul. Her form was faultless; being 
the true medium between vigorous health and womanly delicacy ; 
which, in this country, implies much less of the robust and solid 
than one meets with in the other hemisphere. 

It is not easy to tell how we acquire those in-and-in habits, 
which get to be a sort of second nature, and almost bestow on U3 
new instincts. It is by these secret sympathies, these tastes that 
pervade the moral, as the nerves form a natural telegraph through 
the physical, system, that one feels rather than sees, when he is 
:n the company of persons in his own class in life. Dress will 
not afi()rd an infallible test, on such an occasion, though the daw 



lit THE W AYS OF T II E II () U K. 

is instantly seen not to be the peacock; neither will otrfdresy, foi 
the distinctive qualities lie much deeper than the surface. But 
so it is ; a gentleman can hardly be brought into the company 
of man or woman^ without his at once perceiving whether he or 
jEjhe belong to his own social caste or not. What is more, if u 
man of the world, he detects almost instinctively the degrees of 
caste, as well as the greater subdivisions, and knows whether hit 
strange companions have seen much, or little; whether their 
gentility is merely the result of the great accident, with its cus- 
tomary advantages, or has been smoothed over by a liberal in- 
tercourse with the better classes of a general society. JMost of 
all, may a travelled person be known — and that more especially 
in a provincial country, like our own — from one that has not 
travelled ; though the company kept in other lands necessarily 
draws an obvious distinction between the last. Now, John Wil- 
meter, always mingling with the best society of his own country, 
had also been abroad, and had obtained that "second sight'' 
which so insensibly, but certainly, increases the vision of all 
Americans who enjoy the advantage of acquiring it. What is 
more, though his years and the plans of his uncle for his future 
welfare, had prevented his staying in Europe long enough to 
receive all the benefit such a tour can bestow, he had remained 
long enough to pass beyond the study of merely physical 
things; and had made certain acquisitions in other matters, more 
essential to tastes, if not to character. When an American re- 
turns from an excm'sion into the old world, with " I come back 
better satisfied than ever with my own country," it is an infallible 
sign that he did not stay long enough abroad; and when he 
returns only to find tiiult, it is equally proof that he has stayed too 
long. There is a happy medium which teaches something nea: 
the truth, and that would tell us that there are a thousand things 
to be amended and improved at home, while there are almost as 
many enjoyed, that the oldest and most polished people on earth 



THE WAYS OF T II E II O IJ 11 . 115 

might cn^y. John Wilmeter liad not readied the poiut th.-it 
enabled him to make the nicest distinctions, but he was suffi 
ciently advanced to have detected what he conceived to be signs 
that this singular young creature, unknown, unsupported by any 
who appeared to take an interest in her, besides himself and the 
accidental acquaintances formed under the most painful circum- 
stances, had been abroad; perhaps, had been educated there. 
The regulated tones of one of the sAveetcst voices he had ever 
heard, the distinctness and precision of her utterance, as far as 
possible removed from mouthing and stiffness, but markedly 
quiet and even, with a total absence of all the affectations of 
boarding-school grammar, were so many proofs of even a ]^]uro- 
pean education, as he fancied ; and before that week was termi- 
nated, John had fully made up his mind that Mary jMoiison — 
though an American by birth, about which there could be no 
dispute — had been well taught in some of the schools of the 
old world. 

This was a conclusion not reached immediately. He had to 
be favoured with several interviews, and to worm himself gradu- 
ally into the confidence of his uncle's client, ere he could be 
permitted to see enough of the subject of his studies to form an 
opinion so abstruse and ingenious. 

When Mary Monson caught a glimpse of John Wilmeter 's 
head at her grate — ^where he stood respectfully uncovered, as in 
a lady's presence — a slight flush passed over her face ; but ex- 
pecting him, as she did, she could not well be surprised. 

" This bears some resemblance, Mr. Wilmeter, to an interview 
m a convent,'' she then said, with a slight smile, but with per- 
fect composure of manner. " I am the novice — and novice am 
[, indeed, to scenes like this — you, the excluded friend, who is 
jompelled to pay his visit through a grate ! I must apologize for 
all the trouble I am giving you." 

" D ) not name it — I cannot be better employed than in yom 



116 THE WAYS OF THE II U .1. 

behalf. I am rejoiced that you sustain yourself so well against 
what must be a most unheard-of calamity, for one like yourself, 
and cannot but admire the admirable equanimity with which you 
bear your cruel fortune/^ 

'^Equanimity!" repeated Mary with emphasis, and a slight 
display of intense feeling, powerfully controlled ; " if it be so, 
JMr. AYilmeter, it must be from the sense of security that I feel. 
Yes ; for the first time in months, I do feel myself safe — secure/'' 

" Safe !— Secure !— What, in a gaol V 

" Certainly ; gaols ai-e intended for places of security, are they 
not?'^ answered Mary, smiling, but faintly and with a gleam of 
sadness on her face. " This may appear wonderful to you, but I 
do tell no more than sober truth, in repeating that, for the first 
time in months, I have now a sense of security. I am what you 
call in the hands of the law, and one there must be safe from 
everything but what the law can do to her. Of that I have no 
serious apprehensions, and I feel happy." 

"Happy!" 

" Yes ; by comparison, happy. I tell you this the more will- 
ingly, for I plainly see you feel a generous interest in my wel- 
fare — an interest which exceeds that of the counsel in his 
client " 

"A thousand times exceeds it. Miss Monson ! — Nay — is not 
to be named with it!" 

"I thank 3'OU, Mr. Wilmeter — from my heart I thank you," 
returned the prisoner, a slight flush passing over her features, 
while her eyes were cast towards the floor. " I believe you are 
one of strong feelings and quick impulses, and am grateful that 
these have been in my favour, under circumstances that might 
well have excused you for thinking the worst. From the hints 
of this kind woman, Mrs. Gott, I am afraid that the opinion of 
Hiberry is less consoling?" 

" You must know how it is in country villages, Miss Monson, 



T li E W A V S O F T H E II O U R. 1 1 '( 

— every one lias sometliing to say, and every one brings all 
tilings down to the level of his own knowledge and under 
f standing/ ^ 

Mary Mouson smiled, again; this time more naturally, and 
without any painful expression to lessen the bright influence 
that lighting up of her features gave to a countenance so remark- 
a.ble for its appearance of illumination from within. 

'' Is not such the case in towns, as well as in villages, Mr. 
Wilmeter?'' she asked. 

"Perhaps it is — but I mean that the circle of knowledge is 
more confined in a place like this, than in a large town, and that 
the people here could not well go beyond it.^' 

" Biberry is so near New York, that I should think, taking 
class against class, no great difference can be found in their in- 
habitants. That which the good folk of Biberry think of my 
case, I am afraid will be thought of it by those of your own 
town." 

" My own town ? — and are you not really from New York, 
Miss Monson?'' 

"In no manner," answered Mary, once more smiling; this 
time, however, because she understood how modestly and readily 
her companion was opening a door by which she might let a 
secret she had declined to reveal to his uncle, escape. " I am 
not what you call a Manhattanese, in either descent, birth, or 
residence; in no sense, whatever." 

" But, surely, you have never been educated in the country ? 
— You must belong to some large town — your manners show 
that — I mean that you " 

" Do not belong to Biberry. In that you are quite right, sir. 
£ had never seen Biberry three months since ; but, as for New 
York, I have not passed a month there, in my whole life. The 
'ongest visit I ever paid you, was one of ten days, when I landed, 
ooming fi )m Havre, about eighteen months since." 



Lis T 11 K AV A V S O V T 11 E 11 O U U. 

" From Hnvro I 8urel>', you are an American, IMiss Monsoii 
— om* own countrywoman?" 

" Your own countrywoman, INTr. AVilmoter, by birth, do.^contj 
\iul toolings. ])ut an American female may visit Europe." 

" Certainly; and be educated thore, as I bad already suspected 
was your case." 

'^ In part it Mas, and in part if was not." Here IMary paused, 
l.n^ked a little areb, vseemed to be:;itat<:', and to have some doubts 
wbetber she ought to proceed, or not; but finally added — ^' You 
have been abroad, yourself?" 

"I have. I was nearly three yea.'s in Europe; and have not 
been home yet, quite a twelvemonth." 

" You went into the east, I believe, after passing a few months 
in the ]\yrences?" continued the prisoner, carelessly. 

" You are quite right; we travelled as far as Jerusalem. The 
journey has got to be so common, that it is no longer dangerous. 
Even ladies make it, now, without any apprehension." 

"I am aware of that, having made it myself " 

"You, Miss Monson ! You been at Jerusalem !" 

" Why not, Mr. AVilmeter ? You say, yourself, that females 
constantl}- make the journey; why not I, as well as another?" 

"I scarce know, myself; but it is so strange — all about you 
is so very extraordinary " 

" Y^ou think it extraordinary that one of my sex, who has been 
ptu-tly educated in Europe, and who has travelled in the Holy 
Land, should be shut up in this gaol in Bibeny — is it not so?" 

" That is one view of the matter, I will confess ; but it was 
scarcely less strange, that such a person should be dwelling 
in a garret-roctm of a cottage, like that of these unfortunate 
Goodwins." 

"That touches on my secret, sir; and no more need be said. 
You may judge how important I consider that secret, when I 
know its preservation subjects me to the most cruel distrust; and 



T II K W A V S O 1'' 1 Jl K II U U K 11 

lliat, too, iu the minds of those with whom I would so gladly 
btand fair. Your excellent uncle, for instance, and — yourself." 

"I should be much flattered, could I think the last — I who 
have scarcely the claim of an acquaintance.'' 

" You forget the situation in which your respectable and most 
worthy uncle has left you here, Mr. Wilmeter; which, of itself, 
gives you higher claims to my thanks and confidence than any 
that mere acquaintance could bestow, l^esides, we are not" — ■ 
another arch, but scarcely perceptible, smile again illuminated 
that remarkable countenance — " the absolute strltngers to each 
other, that you seem to think us." 

" Not strangers ? You amaze me ! If I have ever had the 
lionour " 



"Honour!" interrupted Mary, a little bitterly. "It is truly 
a great honour to know one in my situation !" 

"I esteem it an honour; and no one has a right to call in 
question my sincerity. If we have ever met before, I will 
frankly own that I am ignorant of both the time and place." 

" This does not surprise me, iu the least. The time is long, 
for persons as young as ourselves, and the place was far away. 
Ah ! those were happy days for me, and most gladly would I 
return to them ! ]>ut we have talked enough on this subject. 
I have declined telling my talc; to your most excellent and very 
respectable uncle ; you will, therefore, the more easily excuse me, 
if I decline telling it to you." 

" Who am not ^most excellent and veiy respectable,' to reconi- 
aiend me." 

"Who arc too near my own age, to make you a proper couli- 
daiit, were there no otjier objection. The character that I learned 
of you, when we met before, Mr. Wilmeter, was, however, ono 
of which you have no reason to be ashamed." 

This was said gently, but earnestly; was accompanied by a 
mosfc Avinning smile, and was instantly succeeded by a slight 



120 T 11 iL W A if S O F T 11 E li O U .t. 

blush. John Wilmeter rubbed his forehead, sooth to say, in a 
somewhat stupid manner, as if expecting to brighten his powers 
of recollection by friction. A sudden change was given to the 
conversation, however, by the fair prisoner herself, who quietly 
resumed — 

" We will defer this part of the subject to another time. J 
did not presume to send for you, Mr. Wilmeter, without an object, 
having 3^our uncle's authority for giving you all this trouble " 

"And my own earnest request to be permitted to serve jou, 
in any way I^could.'' 

" I have not forgotten that oifcr, nor shall I ever. The man 
who is willing to serve a woman, whom all around her frown 
on, has a fair claim to be remembered. Good Mrs. Gott and 
youruielf are the only two friends I have in Biberry. Even your 
companion, IMr. Millington, is a little disposed to judge me 
harshly.'' 

John started; the movement was so natural, that his honest 
countenance would have betrayed him, had he been disposed to 
deny the imputation. 

"That Millington has fallen into the popular notion about 
here, I must allow. Miss Monson ; but he is an excellent fellow 
at the bottom, and will hear reason. Prejudices that are beyond 
reason are detestable, and I generally avoid those whose characters 
manifest this weakness ; but Mike will always listen to what he 
calls * law and facts,' and so we get along very well together." 

"It is fortunate; since you are about to be so nearly con- 
nected ' ' 

" Connected ! Is it possible that ijou know this circumstance :" 

"You will find in the end, Mr. Wilmeter," returned the pri- 
soner, smiling — this time, naturall}', as one manifests satisfaction 
without pain of any sort — " that I know more of your private 
Rffairs than you had supposed. But let me come to business, if 
70U please, sir • T have great occasion here for a maid-servant 



THE WAY'S OF THE HOUR. 121 

Do you not think that Miss Wilmeter niiglit send me one from 
town?" 

" A servant ! I know the very woman that will suit you. A 
perfect jewel, in her way!'^ 

"That is a very housekeeper sort of a character," rejoined 
Mary, absolutely laughing, in spite of her prison walls, and all 
the terrible charges that had brought her within them; "just 
such a character as I might have expected from Dr. McBrain's 
intended, Mrs. Updyke " 

" And you know it, too ! Why will you not tell us more, 
since you tell us so much ?" 

" In good time, I suppose all will come out. Well, I endea- 
vour to submit to m}'- fiite ; or to the will of God V There wap 
no longer anything merry, in voice, face, or manner, but a simple, 
natural pathos was singularly mixed in the tones with which 
these few words were uttered. Then rousing herself, she gravely 
resumed the subject which had induced her to send for John. 

" You will pardon me, if I say that I would prefer a woman 
chosen and recommended by your sister, Mr. Wilmeter, than one 
chosen and recommended by yourself," said Mary. " When I 
shall have occasion for a footman, I will take your advice. It is 
very important that I should engage a respectable, discreet woman; 
and I will venture to write a line, myself, to Miss Wilmeter, if 
you will be so kind as to send it. I know this is not the duty 
of a counsel ; but you see my situation. Mrs. Gott has offered 
to procure a girl for me, it is true ; but the prejudice is so strong 
against me in Biberry, that I doubt if the proper sort of person 
could be obtained. At any rate, I should be recei\ang a spy into 
my little household, instead of a domestic^ in whom I could place 
confidence." 

" Sarah would join me in recommending Marie, who has been 
with herself more than two years, and only left her to take care 
of her father, in his last illness. Another, equally excellent, ha«J 

6 



l22 THE WAYS OF THE 11 O U K. 

been taken in her place j and now, that she wishes to return to 
my sister's service, there i^ no opening for her. Mike MillingtoD 
is dying to return to town, and will gladly go over this evening. 
By breakfast-time to-morrow, the woman might be here, if " 

" She will consent to serve a mistress in my cruel situation. 
I feel the full weight of the objection, and know how difficult it 
will be to get a female, who values her character as a servant, to 
enter on such an engagement. You called this woman Marie; 
by that, I take it she is a foreigner?" 

"A Swiss — her parents emigi-ated; but I knew her in the 
service of an American family, abroad, and got her for Sarah. 
She is the best creature in the world — if she can be persuaded 
to come." 

" Had she been an American, I should have despaired of suc- 
ceeding unless her feelings could have been touched; but, as 
she is a foreigner, perhaps money will procure her services. 
Should Miss AVilmcter approve of your selection, sir, I will 
intreat her to go as high as fifty dollars a month, rather than not 
get the sort of person I want. You can imagine how much im- 
portance I attach to success. To escape remarks and gossiping, 
the person engaged can join me as a companion, or friend, and 
not as a servant." 

" I will get Mike off in half an hour, and Sarah will at least 
make an effort. Yes, Marie Moulin, or Mary Mill, as the girls 
call her, is just the thing !" 

"Marie Moulin ! Is that the name of the woman ? She who 
was in the service of the Barringcrs, at Paris ? Do you mean 
that person — five-and-thirty, slightly pock-marked, with light 
blue eyes, and yellowish hair — more like a German, than her 
French name would give reason to expect?" 

" The very same ; and you knew her, too ! Why not bring 
all your friends around you at once, Miss Monson, and no^ 
remain here an hour longer than is uecessai-y." 



T II E WAYS OF THE HOUR. 123 

Mary was too intent on the subject of engaging the woman in 
question, to answer this last appeal. Earnestly did she resume 
her instructions, therefore, and with an eagerness of manner 
young Wilmeter had never before observed in her. 

" If Marie Moulin be the person meant/^ she said, " I will 
spare no pains to obtain her services. Her attentions to poor 
Mrs. Barringer, in her last illness, were admirable ; and we all 
loved her, I may say. Beg your sister to tell her, Mr. Wilmeter, 
that an old acquaintance, in distress, implores her assistance. 
That will bring Marie, sooner than money, Swiss though she be.'' 

^^ If you would write her a line, enclosing your real name, for 
we are persuaded it is not Monson, it might have more effect 
than all our solicitations, in behalf of one that is unknown.'' 

The prisoner turned slowly from the grate, and walked up and 
down her gallery for a minute or two, as if pondering on this 
proposal. Once she smiled, and it almost gave a lustre to her 
remarkable countenance ; then a cloud passed over her face, and 
once more she appeared sad. 

"No," she said, stopping near the grate again, in one of her 
turns. "I will not do it — it will be risking too much. I can 
do nothing, just now, that will tell more of me than your sister 
can state." 

"Should Marie Moulin know you, she must recognise yov 
when you meet." 

" It will be wiser to proceed a little in the dark. I confide 
all to your powers of negotiation, and shall remain as tranquil a.* 
possible, until to-morrow morning. There is still another little 
affair that I must trouble you with, Mr. Wilmeter. My gold it 
sequestered, as you know, and I am reduced to an insufficient 
amount of twos and threes. Might I ask the favour of you to 
obtain smaller notes for this, without mentioning in whose 
behalf it is done?" 

While speaking, Maiy handed through the grate a hundred 



1 24 T n K W A V S O F T HE II U I' R. 

Jollar note of one of the New York banks, with a manner sc 
natural and unpretending, as at once to convince John Wilmetcr, 
ever so willing to be persuaded into anything in her favour, that 
she was accustomed to the use of money in considerable sums ; 
or, what might be considered so, for the wants and habits of a 
female. Luckily, he had nearly money enough in his wallet tc 
change the note, making up a small balance that was needed, by 
drawing five half-eagles from his purse. The prisoner held the 
last, in the open palm of one of the most beautiful little hands 
the eyes of man ever rested on. 

" This metal has been my bane, in more ways than one, Mr. 
Wilmetcr,'' she said, looking mournfully at the coin. "Of one 
of its evil influences on my fate, I may not speak, now, if ever ; 
but you will understand me when I say, that I fear that gold 
piece of Italian money is the principal cause of my bojng where 
I am." 

" No doubt, it has been considered one of the most material 
of the facts against you, Miss Monsonj though it is by no 
aicans conclusive, as evidence, even with the most bitter and 
prejudiced." 

"I hope not. Now, Mr. Wilmetcr, I will detain you no 
longer ; but beg you to do my commission with your sister, as 
you would do it for her with me. I would write, but my hand 
IS so peculiar, it were better that I did not." 

Mary Monson now dismissed the young man, with the manner 
of one very familiar with the tone of good society — a term that 
It is much the fashion to ridicule just now, but which conveys a 
meaning, that it were better the scoflers understood. This she 
did, however, after again apologising for the trouble she was 
giving, and thanking him earnestly for the interest he took in 
her affairs. We believe in animal magnetism ; and cannot pre- 
tend to say what is the secret cause of the powerful sympathy 
that is so often suddenly awakened between persons of different 



T IJ E WAYS O F T HE II O U 11. 125 

sexes, and, in some instances, between those who are of the same 
Bex ; but IMary Monson, by that species of instinct that teaches 
the female where she has awakened an interest livelier than 
common, and possibly where she has not, was certainly already 
a^vare that John Wilmeter did not regard her with the same cool 
indifference he would have felt towards an ordinary client of hia 
uncle's. In thanking him, therefore, her own manner manifested 
a little of the reflected feeling that such a state of things is pretty 
certain to produce. She coloured, and slightly hesitated once, as 
if she paused to choose her terms with more than usual care j but, 
in the main, acquitted herself well. The parting, betrayed inte- 
rest, perhaps feeling, on both sides ; but nothing very manifest 
escaped either of our young people. 

Never had Jolin Wilmeter been at a greater loss to interpret 
facts, than he was on quitting the grate. The prisoner was truly 
the most incomprehensible being he had ever met with. Not- 
withstanding the fearful nature of the charges against her — 
charges that might well have given great uneasiness to the firmest, 
man — she actually seemed in love with her prison. It is true, 
that worthy ^Irs. Oott had taken from the place many of its 
ordinary, repulsive features ; but it was still a gaol, and the sun 
could be seen only through grates, and massive walls separated 
her that was within, from the world without. As the young 
man was predisposed to regard everything connected with this 
extraordinary young woman couleur de rose, however, he saw 
nothing but the surest signs of innocence in several circumstances 
that might have increased the distrust of his cooler-headed uncle j 
but most persons would have regarded the gentle tranquillity 
that now seemed to soothe a spirit that had evidently been much 
'iroubled of late, as a sign that her hand could never have com- 
mitted the atrocities with which she was charged. 

"Is she not a sweet young thing, Mr. Wilmeter?" exclaimed 
kind Mrs. Gott, while locking the doors after John, on hi? 



126 THE WAYS OF THE H O U K. 

retiring from the grate. "I consider it an lionom- to Biberry 
gaol, to have such a prisoner within its walls V 

"I believe that you and I stand alone in our favourable 
opinion of Miss Monson/' John answered; "so far, at least, as 
Biberrj is concerned. The excitement against her seems to be 
at the highest pitch ; and I much doubt whether a fair trial can 
bo had in the county/' 

"The newspapers won't mend the matter, sir. The papera 
from town, this morning, are full of the affair, and they all 
appear to lean the same way. But it 's a long road that has no 
turning, Mr. Wilmeter." 

"Very true, and nothing wheels about with a quicker step 
than the sort of public opinion that is got up under a cry, and 
funs itself out of breath, at the start. I expect to see Mary 
Monson the most approved and most extolled woman in tliis 
county, yet!'' 

Mrs. Gott hoped with all her heart that it might be so, though 
she had, certainly, misgivings that the young man did not feel. 
Half an hour after John Wilmeter had left the gaol, his friend, 
Michael Millington, was on the road to town, carrying a letter to 
Sarah, with a most earnest request that she would use all her 
influence with Marie ^loulin to engage in the unusual service 
asked of her, for a few weeks, if for no longer a period. This 
letter reached its destination in due time, and greatly did the 
sister marvel over its warmth, as well as over the nature of 
the request. 

" I never knew John to write so earnestly V exclaimed Sarah, 
when she and Michael had talked over the matter a few moments. 
" Were he actually in love, I could not expect him to be more 
pressing." 

"I will not swear that he is not,'' returned the friend, laugh- 
ing. " He sees everything with eyes so different from mine, that 
I scarce know what to make of him. I have never known John 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 12*? 

go deeply interested in any human being, as he is at this moment 
in this strange creature!'^ 

" Creature I You men do not often call young ladies creatures ; 
and my brother affirms that this Mary Monson is a lady.'^ 

" Certainly she is, so far as exterior, manner, education, and I 
suppose, tastes, are concerned. Nevertheless, there is too much 
reason to think she is, in some way unknown to us, connected 
with crime. '^ 

" I have read accounts of persons of these attainments, who 
have been leagued together, and have carried on a great system 
of plundering for years, with prodigious success. That, however, 
was in older countries, where the necessities of a crowded popu- 
lation drive men into extremes. We are hardly sufficiently ad- 
vanced, or civilized as they call it, for such bold villany." 

"A suspicion of that nature has crossed my mind," returned 
Millington, looking askance over his shoulder, as if he apprehended 
that his friend might hear him. " It will not do, however, to 
remotely hint to John anythi'jg of the sort. His mind is be- 
yond the influence of testimony." 

Sarah scarce knew what to make of the affiiir, though sisterly 
regard disposed her to do all she couM to oblige her brother. 
Marie Moulin, however, was not easily persuaded into consenting 
to serve a mistress who was in prison. She held up her hands, 
turned up her eyes, uttered fifty exclamations, and declared, over 
and over again '^ c'esl impossible;'^ and wondered how a female 
in such a situation could suppose any respectable domestic would 
serve her, as it would be very sure to prevent her ever getting a 
good place afterwards. This last objection struck Sarah as quite 
reasonable, and had not her brother been so very urgent with 
her, would of itself have induced her to abandon all attempt at 
persuasion. Marie, however, finally yielded to a feeling of intense 
curiosity, when no bribe in money could have bought her. John 
had said the prisoner knew her — had known her in Europe — and 



128 THE WAYS OS THE HOUR. 

she was eoon dying with tlie desire to know who, of all her many 
acquaintances in the old world, could be the particular individual 
who had got herself into this formidable difficulty. It was im. 
possible to resist this feeling, so truly feminine, which was a good 
deal stimulated by a secret wish in Sarah, also, to learn who this 
mysterious person might be ; and who did not fail to urge IMarie, 
with all her rhetoric, to consent to go and, at least, see the person 
who had so strong a wish to engage her services. The Swiss had 
not so much difficulty in complying, provided she was permitted 
to reserve her final decision until she had met the prisoner, w^hcn 
she might gratify her curiosity, and return to town prepared to 
enlighten Miss Wilmeter, and all her other friends, on a subject 
that had got to be intensely interesting. 

It was not latC; next morning, when IMarie Moulin, attended 
by John Wilmeter, presented herself to ]Mrs. Gott, as an appli- 
cant for admission to the gallery of Mary Monson. The young 
man did not show himself, on this occasion ; though he was near 
enough to hear the grating of the hinges when the prison-door 
opened. 

" C'est bien vous done, Marie V said the prisoner, in a quick 
but pleased salutation. 

" Mademoiselle !'' exclaimed the Swiss. The kisses of women 
succeeded. The door closed, and John Wilmeter learned do 
more, on that occasion. 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR-. 129 



CHAPTER VIII. 

"And can you by no drift of conference 
Get from him, why he puts on this confusion — " 

HandeL 

There is something imaginative, if not very picturesque, in 
the manner in which the lawyers of Manhattan occupy the build- 
ings of Nassau street, a thoroughfare which connects Wall street 
with the Tomhs. There they throng, resembling the remains of so 
many monuments along the Appian way, with a " siste viator" of 
their own, to ari'est the footsteps of the wayftirer. AVe must now 
transfer the scene to a building in this street, which stands about 
half-way between Maiden Lane and John Street, having its front 
plastered over with little tin signs, like a debtor marked by writs, 
or what are now called " complaints." Among these signs, which 
afforded some such pleasant reading as an almanac, was one that 
bore this simple and reasonably intelligent inscription : 

" Thomas Dunscomb, 2d floor, in front." 

It is somewhat singular that tenns as simple as those of fii"si 
floor, second floor, &c., should not signify the same things ift the 
language of the mother country, and that of this land of progress 
and liberty. Certain it is, nevertheless, that in American par- 
lance, more especially in that of Manhattan, a first floor is never 
up one pair of stairs, as in London, unless indeed the flight is 
that by which the wearied foot-passenger climbs the high stoop 
to gain an entrance into the buUding. In other words, an Eng- 
Urih first floor corresponds with an American second ; and, taking 



t so THE WAYS OF THE II O U H. 

that as the point of departure, the same difference exists through- 
out. Tom Dunscomb's ojffice (or offices would be the better term) 
occupied quite half of the second story of a large double house, 
that had once been the habitation of some private family of note, 
but which had long been abandoned to the occupation of these 
ministers of the law. Into those offices it has now become our 
duty to accompany one who seemed a little strange in that den 
of the profession, at the very moment he was perfectly at home. 

"Lawyer Dunscomb in?'^ demanded this person, who had a 
decided rustic mien, though his dress had a sort of legal dye on 
it, speaking to one of the five or six clerks who raised their heads 
on the stranger's entrance. 

"In, but engaged in a consultation, I believe," answered one 
who, bein^ paid for his services, was the working clerk of the 
office; most of the others being students who get no remuneration 
for their time, and who very rarely deserve it. 

"I'll wait till he is through,'' returned the stranger, helping 
himself coolly to a vacant chair, and taking his seat in the midst 
of dangers that might h-xve alarmed one less l\miiliar with the 
snares, and quirks, and quiddities of the law. The several clerks, 
after taking a good look each at their guest, cast their eyes down 
on their books or .foolscap, and seemed to be engrossed with their 
respective occupations. Most of the young men, members of 
respectable fimiilics in town, set the stranger down for a rustic 
client ; but the working clerk saw at once, by a certain self-pos- 
sessed and shrewd manner, that the stranger was a country prac- 
titioner. 

In the course of the next half horn*, Daniel Lord and Georgo 
Wood came out of the sanctum, attended as far as the door by 
Dunscomb himself. Exchanging "good morning" with his pro 
fessional friends, the last caught a glimpse of his patient visitor, 
whom he immediately saluted by the somewhat brief and familiar 
name of Timms, inviting him ins+antly, and with earnestness, tc 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 131 

oorne within the limits of the privileged. Mr. Timms complied, 
cutering the sanctuvi with the air of one who had been there 
before, and appearing to be in no manner overcome by the honour 
he enjoyed. And now, as a faithful chronicler of events, it is 
here become our painful, not to say revolting duty, to record an 
act on the part of the man who was known throughout Duke's 
county as 'Squire Timms, which it will never do to overlook, 
since it has got to be perfectly distinctive and characteristic of 
late years, not of an individual, but of large classes who throng 
the bar, the desk, the steamboats, the taverns, the streets. A 
thousand paragraphs have been written on the subject of Ameri- 
can spitting, and not one line, as we can remember, on the subject 
of an equally common and still grosser offence against the minor 
morals of the country, if decency in manners may be thus term_ed. 
Our meaning will be explained more fully in the narrative of the 
stranger's immediate movements on entering the sanctum. 

"Take a seat, Mr. Timms,'' said Dunscomb, motioning to a 
chair, while he resumed his own well-cushioned seat, and deli- 
berately proceeded to light a segar, not without pressing several 
v/ith a species of intelligent tenderness, between his thumb and 
finger. "Take a seat, sir; and take a segar." 

Here occuiTcd the great tour de force in manners of 'Squire 
Timms. Considerately turning his person quartering towards his 
host, and seizing himself by the nose, much as if he had a quarrel 
with that member of his face, he blowed a blast that sounded 
BODorously, and which fulfilled all that it promised. Now a better 
mannered man than Dunscomb it would not be easy to find. He 
was not particularly distinguished for elegance of deportment, but 
he was perfectly well-bred. Nevertheless, he did not flinch before 
tliis broad hint from vulgarity, but stood it unmoved. To own 
the truth, so large has been the inroad from the base of society, 
Trithin the last five-and-twenty years, on the habits of those who 
mcc exclusively dwelt together, that he had got hardened ever 



f;<'j 



I III'; w \ \ 



r II 10 II () ii li. 



to (his iiuiov.Mlidii. 'V\\o r.irl. Im iiol, to he coiicciIimI, iirul, jim W< 
in((Mi(l uowv U) ((Mich u|m»ii lUo Hul»ji>ct ngnin, Wd hIiuII nny dit^ 
limllv ll»!il Mr. 'riimiiM bNiwrtl liis nom willi liis rm|:;('rM, aiul lli:it, 
ill ;.(> (I(tiii<>;, li(^ (lid Mdt. imiovato ouo luiirn.s iniu'li, lo-dny, on IImi 
UMiij'VH of ll»(* I'ppt'r Ten 'riious:iM(l, mm lie would li:iV(> doiu* Ii:i(l 
1h> Mowed lii.'i iio;u> with his flimid) oulv, n (jUMidr of :i ccntiiry 
ninety 

|)unNcoml> l>or(> (liin inllictioii itliilosophicjdly ; ntid wt-ll lio 
miglit, for lUvvo wms no rcnu'dy. W'.-iilinj.'; tor TimniM io ust* hin 
liMudluMHOiicf, which wmm pnuhuMHl houk'wIjmI. Ijirdily lor Hiuli :m 
oitornlion, h(> (jui(^lly (>]MMi(»d {]w nul>j«>ct of (heir ititcM-vicw. 

*' So (ho ;M';i'id jiiry hiiM iicfnnllv I'oiind a hill lor iuiir(h'i- and 
arson, n»y nephew vvri(es nu\" l>tniseoinh ohserved, hxtkin^;; (>n- 
Hnirinp;l_v a( ITim eonii>anion, as if rt>Mll\ nnvioiiM (or Ctnlhei- in(<>l- 
\i^en(M>. 

" I 'nanimoiiMlv, Ihey tell iiu", iM r. l>unseoiid),"an,sweri"d 'rniiius. 
'• I nn(hn.s(and (ha( only one man liesi(a(e(l, and he was hronjdit 
romid helore (h(>y eanu* in((» eonr(. 'rha( |>i(>ee of n»on(>y danin.s 
nni" easi> in old hiiKe's " 

•' Mon«>y sayes nior«> eases (han i( damns, 'rimms; and in* one 
kn(»WM i( h(>((er (han yonrsidC." 

** \'(M-y lrn(>, sir. iMiMu^y may deCy even (Ii(> new e(>de. (I'wo 
me li\e l\nt\di'ed (loIla\^(, and el»an;';(> (Ik^ proeeiMlinj^'s (o a civil 
iielion, and I 'II carry aiiylhinsji; in my own eotndy (lia( yon '11 \n\i. 
on (ln> cah'udar, harrin;^ soi\>(^ (W(Mi(y or thirl y Jurors 1 e(.ul(l 
nanuv 'rh(M(> (trc about thirty n>en in tin* eoiuil\ (hat I can d.» 
nothing!; with lor that n\a((er, wlu>m I daii' nol ap|>roa<'li." 

"How the deuce is i(, TiuMns, (hat you mjina;,';!* your ca»rs(>.s 
with so nnich suec(>ss "Z (or I r(Muemh(M- you havevfivcn me a <M>od 
Ar:\\ ol" IrouMe in suits in which law and ('act W(>re holh ileaily 
cnou<,';h on my n'ulo " 

*' I snpp(>st> i]\OHO nms( liay(> hi^cn causes in whicli wi> ' ho»"so 
^hedded' at\d 'pillowed' a i\oo{\ deal." 



'I' UK VV A V K <) K 'I' II K II () II U. HKj 

" II()I\S(!-hIi(!<I<I<mI .-IIkI ))illoVV<'i| ! 'Vliiy.M) ;il'(; Ic^riil t,(;llllM of wll'lclj 

[ liavcj no l<ti()wl(;<lg() !" 

"Tluiy arc country |)liniHCH, hIt, .'iiid cjninU-y cuhIohih too, i'oi 
tliat matter. A man iiiiglit practiHO a long life in town, and know 
ttotliin!' :il>()ut tlwtin. TIm; IImIIh of »Jii;i(,i(;(; arc; not iimiiaculato ; 
but tli(iy can toll us nothiii;^ ol" lioi-,s(!-Hli(;(l(lin<j; mikI pillowing. 
They do |jUHin(!HH in ;i, way of wliich wo in the country arc junt 
as ignorant as you nn; of our niod*!." 

" Have the goodncHH, TiinnjH, ju.st to explain the meaning of 
your terms, which nre quite new to mcj. J will not tswear tlw^y 
arc not in tlie ('ode of Practice, but they mi-(! in neitii(!r Hl;i,ck- 
Stone nor Kent." 

" IJonse-jshedding, 'Squire l)uiiHconi(», (ixplains it.s(;if. In tL-' 
country, most of the jui-ors, witn<!,sH(!H, ttc, liave more or l(!,s,s Ui 
do with the honie-i-ihedM, if it 'h only to kcc; th;i,t tlieir bea,stH arc 
fed. Well, w(! k(!(!p prop(ir talk(irH th(!re, and it jnust be a knotty 
case, inde(;d, into whi(;h an ingenious hand cannot thrust a d<mbt 
fT an argument, 'j'o Ix; frank with you, I 've known thnui jwetty 
diiricult Huits suiiinnid iiji uii<l(;r a hoi-,se ,sh(!d in <Hie (!;iy ; and 
twice as many o[)(;ned." 

'M3ut how is this dofiey — do you present yoiir arj/umentM 
directly, as in eouit?" 

"Lord bh;ss you, no. In court, unhiss tlnj jury happen to bo - 
unusually excellent, counsel have to pay some little nsgard to the 
toMimony and th<i law; but, in horse-shedding, one has no need 
of (;ith<;r. A ,skilful horse-shedder, for instance, will tilk a party 
to [»ie(jes, and not say a word about the case. That 's tlw; pcjrfeu- 
tion of the bu.sincHS, it's jigainst the law, you know, Mr. Duns- 
comb, to talk of a c;u-;e befon; a juror ^ — -an in<li<J,;ible ollituee — 
but one may make a ciikc of a party's g(;neral character, of his 
means, his miserly qualiti(!S, or his aristocracy; and it will be, 
hard to get hold of the talker for any of them qualities. Aiis- 
Ujcrftey, of Iat(! years, is a capital argument, and will suit aliuoHl 



134 T II K WAYS OK T II K HOUR. 

any state of facty, or any action you can bring. Only persuade 
the jury that the phiintift' or defendant fancies himself better than 
they are, and tlie verdict is certain. I got a thousand dollars in 
the Springer case, solely on that ground. Aristocracy did it ! It 
is going to do ns a great deal of harm in iliis murder and arson 
indictment." 

"But IMary Monson is no aristocrat — she is a stranger, and 
nnhnown. AVhat privileges does she enjoy, to render her ob- 
noxious to the charge of aristocracy?" 

" JNIore than will do her any good. Her aristocracy docs her 
almost as much luirm in old Duke's as the piece of gold. I 
always consider a cause as htilf lost, -when there is any aristocracy 
in it." 

" Aristocracy means exclusive political i)rivilcges in the hands 
of a few; and it means nothing else. Now, what exclusive poli- 
tical privileges does tliis unfortunate young woman enjoy? She 
is accused of two of the highest crimes known to the laws; is 
indicted, imprisoned, and will be tried." 

"Yes, and by her pcers^'' said Timms, taking out a very re- 
ppectable-looking box, and helping himself liberally to a pinch 
of cut tobacco. " It's wonderful, 'Squire Dunscomb, how much 
breadth the peerage possesses in this country ! I saw a trial, a 
yc;u' or two since, in which one of the highest intellects of the 
laud was one of the parties, and in which a juror asked the judge 
to explain the meaning of the word * bereaved.' That, citizen 
had his rights referred to his peers, with a vengeance !" 

^' Yes ; the venerable maxim of the common law is^ occasion- 
ally, a little caricatiu'cd among us. This is owing to our adhering 
to antiquated opinions after tlie facts in which they had their 
origin have ceaswl to exist. But, by your manner of treating 
the subject, Tinnns, I infer that you give up the aristocracy." 

♦* Not at all. Our client will have more risks to run on n.o- 
wuut of thai, than on account of any other weak spot in hei 



TMK WAYS OF T II K 1? O U II. 135 

rai^e. I think wo riii<rlit get along with the pieee oH gold, ixa u 
life i» in question; but it is not quite so easy to see how we art 
to get ulong with the aristocracy." 

"And this in the face of her imprisonnieiit, solitary condition^ 
friendless state, and utter dependence on strangers for her future 
fate ? I see no one feature of aristocracy to reproach her 
with." 

" ]3ut I see a great many, and so does the neighbourhood. It 
is already getting to be the talk of half the county. In short, 
all are talking about it, but they who know better. You'll see, 
'Squire Dunscomb, there are two sorts of ai-istocracy in the eyes 
of most people; your sort, and my sort. Your sort is a state of 
society that gives privileges and power to a few, and keeps it 
there. Tliat is what I call old-fashioned aristocracy, about whicl: 
nolxxly cares aiiytlii)ig in this country. We have no sucli aristo- 
crats, I aUovr, and consequently they don't signify a straw." 

"Yet they are the only true aristocrats, after all. ]>ut wiiat, 
or who are yours." 

"Well now, 'Squire, you are a sort of aristocrat yourself, in a 
certain way. I don't know how it is — I'm admitted to the bar 
as well as you — have just as many rights — " 

"More, Tininis, if leaxling jurors by the nose, and horse-sbod- 
ding, can be accounted rights." 

"Well, more, in some respects, may be. Notwithstanding aii 
this, there is a difference between us — a difference in our ways, 
in our language, in our ideas, our manner of thinking and acting, 
that sets you up above me in away I should not like in any othoT 
man. As you did so much for me when a boy, sir, and carnofi 
nsc thiougK to the bnr on your shoulders, as it might be, I shall 
always look up to you; ihough I must sny that T do not always 
like even your superiority." 

" I should be sorry, Timrns, if I ever so far forget my own 
great defects, as to parade unfeelingly any little advantages I 



] no Til K, ^V A Y S O F T II K II O V K . 

inny iKippcii to pos.>oss over you, or over any other innii, in oou- 
so(]ueiK'e of the aecideiits of birth and education." 

" You do not. jiarade them unfeelingly, sir; you do not par adu 
them at all. Still, they will show themselves; and they ai'e just 
the things I doiiot like to loi^k at. Now, what is true of me, is 
tiiie of all my neighbours. AVe eall anything aristocracy that ia 
a touch above us, let it be what it may, I sometimes think 
'Squire Punseomb is a sort of an arij^toerat in the law ! Now, aa 
for our client, she has a hundred ways with her that are not the 
ways of Duke's, unless you go among the tip-toppers." 

♦'The Upper Ten " 

"Pshaw! I know better than that myself, 'Sipiire. Their 
Upper Ten should be upper one, or two, to be common sense. 
Kudo and untaught as I was until you took me by the hatul, sir, 
I can tell the ditVerenee between those who wear kids, and ride in 
tlu>ir coaches, and those wlio tuv lit for either. Our client has 
none of this, sir; and that it is which surprises me. She has )io 
Union Place, or Fifth Avenue, about her; but is the true coin. 
There is one thing in particular that I 'm afraid may do her 
harm." 

*' It is the true coin which usually passes with the least trouble 
from hand to hand. Init wli;jt is this particular source of unei*- 
siuess?" 

*'Why, the client has a lady-friend " 

* A little exclamation from Punscomb caused the speaker to 
pause, while the counsellor removed the seg:u" from his mouth, 
knocked olV its ashes, and appeared to ponder for a moment, 
touching the best manner of treating a somewhat delicate subject. 
At length, native frankness overcame all scruples, and he spoke 
plainlv, or as the familiar instructor might be expected to address 
•1 very given pupil. 

'' If you love me, Timms, never repeat that diabolical phrase 
again," s.iid Punscomb, looking quite serious, however much 



T II K WAYS O K T IF Vl II O U K. I'^l 

lliorc mighi have bocu of aflbctation in IiIh aspect. " It. is even 
worse iJiau Ilurl^aU;, wliicli I have told you lil'ty tinuis 1 cannot 
ondure. ' I^ady friend' is infcirnally vulgar, and I loill not stand 
it. Yo.i may blow your nose with your lingers, if it give you 
especial satisfaction, and you may Mow out against aristocracy as 
much as you please ; but you shall not talk to mc about ' lady- 
friends' or * llurlgate.' I am no dandy, but a respectable elderly 
gentleman, who jjrofesses to speak English, and who wishes to bo 
addressal in his own language. Heaven knows what Ihe country 
is coining to ! There is Webster, to begin with, cranuning a 
Yankee dialect down our throatM for good English; then comes 
all the cant of the day, flourishing finical phrases, and new signi- 
lications to good old homely words, and changing the very nature 
of mankind by means of terms. Last of all, is this infernal Code, 
in which ihe ideas are as bad a,s ])os,sible, and the terms still worse. 
lint whom do you nu^an by your ' l;idy-fri(md ?' " 

"The French lady that has been with our client, now, for a 
fortnight. .I)e})end on it, she will do us no good when wc are on. 
8he is too aristocratic altogether." 

Dunscomb laughed outright. Then he passed ;i hand across 
his brow, and seemed to muse. 

"All this is very scn-ious," he at length replied, "and is really 
no laughing matter. A pretty pass arc we coming <-o, if iho 
administration of the law is to be influenced by such things as 
these ! The doctrine is opcnily held that the rich shall not, ought 
not to embellish their amusements at a cost that the poor cannot 
compass; and here we have a member of the bar telling us n 
prisoner shall not have justice because she has a foreign maid* 
Her van t !" 

" A servant ! Call her anything but that, 'Squire, if you wish 
for success ! A i)risoner accused of capital criimjs, with a siu'vant, 
would be certain to be condemned. Even the court would hardly 
ytaiid ilial," 



138 I'llE WAYS OF THE II O U K. 

" Timms, you arc a shrewd, sagacious fellow, and are apt tc 
laugh in your sleeve at follies of this nature, as I well know from 
long acquaintance ; and here you insist on one of the greatest of 
all the absurdities." 

" Things are changed in Amoriky, IMr. Dunscomb. The peopk 
an^ beginning to govern; and when they can't do it legall}", the} 
dD it without law. Don't you see what the papers say aboui. 
having operas and play-houses at the people's prices, and the 
right to hiss ? There's Constitution for you ! I wonder what 
Kent and Blackstone would say to that?" 

" Sure enough. They would find some novel features in a 
liberty which says a man shall not set the price on the seats in 
his own theatre, and that the hissing may be done by an audience 
in the streets. The fticts are, Timms, that all these abuses about 
O. l\'s, and controlling other persons' concerns under the pre- 
tence that the public has rights where, as a public, it has no 
rights at all, come from the reaction of a half-way liberty in other 
countries. Here, where the people are really free, having all the 
power, and where no political right is hereditary, the people 
ought, at least, to respect their own ordinances." 

" Do you not consider a theatre a public place, 'Squire Duns- 
comb?'' 

" In one sense it is, certainly ; but not in the sense that bears 
on this pretended power over it. The very circumstance that 
the audience pay for their seats, makes it, in law as in fact, a 
matter of covenant. As for this newfangled absurdity about it^ 
being a duty to furnish low-priced seats for the poor, where the} 
may sit and look at pretty women because they cannot see theiu 
elsewhere, it is scarcely worth an argument. If the rich should 
dt;mand that the wives and daughters of the poor should be 
paraded in the pits and galleries, for their patrician eyes to feast 
on, a pretty clamour there would be ! If the state requires cheap 
Gheatres, and cheap women, let the state pay for them, as it doos 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. li^^J 

'or its othir wants; but, if these amusemcnt& are to be tlic objecJ 
of private speculations, let private wisdom control tliem. I have 
no respect for one-sided liberty, let it cant as much as it may." 

"Well, I don't know, sir; I have read some of these articles, 
and they seemed to me ^' 

" What — convincing V* 

"Perhaps not just that, 'Squire; but very agreeable. I'm 
not rich enough to pay for a high place at an opera or a theatre ; 
und it is pleasant to fancy that a poor feller can get one of the 
best seats at half-price. Now, in England, they tell me, the 
public won't stand prices they don't like." 

" Individuals of the public may refuse to purchase, and there 
their rights cease. An opera, in particular, is a very expensive 
amusement; and in all countries where the rates of admission 
are low, the governments contribute to the expenditures. This 
is done from policy, to keep the people quiet, and possibly to 
help civilize them ; but, if we are not far beyond the necessity of 
any such expedients, our institutions are nothing but a sublime 
mystification." 

"It is wonderful, 'Squire, how many persons see the loose 
side of democracy, who have no notion of the tight ! But, all 
this time, our client is in gaol at Biberry, and must be tried next 
week. Has nothing been done, 'Squire, to choke off the news- 
papers, who have something to say about her almost every day. 
It's quite time the other side should be heard." 

" It is very extraordinary that the persons who control these 
papers should be so indifferent to the rights of others as to allow 
Huch paragraphs to find a place in their columns." 

" Indifferent ! What do they care, so long as the journal sells ? 
In our case, however, I rather suspect that a certain reporter has 
taken offence ; and when men of that class get offended, look out 
*'or news of the colour of their anger. Is n't it wonderful, 'Squire 
Dunscomb, that the people don't see and feel that they are su& 



140 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

taining low tyrants, in two-thirds of their silly clamour about 
the liberty of the press?" 

" Many do see it ; and I think this engine has lost a greal 
deal of its influence within the last few years. As respects pro- 
ceedings in the courts, there never will be any true liberty in the 
country, until the newspapers are bound hand and foot/' 

" You are right enough in one thing, 'Squire, and that is in 
the ground the press has lost. It has pretty much used itself up 
in Duke's; and I would pillow and horse-shed a cause through 
against it, the best day it ever saw!" 

" By the way, Timms, you have not explained the pillowing 
process to me.'' 

"I should think the word itself would do that, sir. You 
know how it is in the country. Half a dozen beds are put in the 
same room, and two in a bed. Waal, imagine three or four jurors 
in one of these rooms, and two chaps along with 'em, with in- 
structions how to talk. The conversation is the most innocent 
and nat'ral in the world ; not a word too much or too little ; but 
it sticks like a bur. The juror is a plain, simple-minded country- 
man, and swallows all that his room-mates say, and goes into the 
box next day in a beautiful frame of mind to listen to reason and 
evidence ! No, no ; give me two or three of these pillow-coun- 
sellors, and I'll undo all- "hat the journals can do, in a single 
conversation. You'll remember, 'Squire, that we get the last 
word by this system ; and if the first blow is half the battle in 
war, the last word is another half in the law. Oh ! it 's a beau- 
tiful business, is this trial by jury." 

" All this is very wrong, Timms. For a long time I have 
known that you have exercised an extraordinary influence over 
the jurors of Duke's; but this is the first occasion on which you 
have been frank enough to reveal the process." 

" Because this is the fii-st occasion on which we have ever had 
a capital case together. In the present state of public opinion 



TlIF WAYS OF THE HOUR. lU 

in Duke's, I n.uch question whether we can get a jury empan- 
nollcd in this trial at all." 

" The Supreme Court will then send us to town, by way of 
mending the matter. Apropos, Timms '' 

" One word if you please, 'Squire ; what does a propos really 
mean ? I hear it almost every day, but never yet knew the 
meaning.'' 

" It has shades of difference in its signification — as I just used 
it, it means ' speaking of that.' " 

" And is it right to say a propos to such a thing ?" 

" It is better to say a propos of, as the French do. In old 
English it was always to ; but in our later mode of speaking, we 
say ^ of.'" 

" Thank you, sir. You know how I glean my knowledge in 
driblets; and out in the country not always from the highest 
authorities. Plain and uncouth as I know I appear to you, and 
to Miss Sarah, I have an ambition to be a gentleman. Now, 1 
have observation enough to see that it is these little matters, after 
all, and not riches and fine clothes, that make gentlemen and 
ladies." 

" I am glad you have so much discrimination, Timms ; but, 
you must permit me to remark, that you will never make a gen- 
tleman until you learn to let your nose alone." 

" Thank you, sir — I am thankful for even the smallest hints 
on manners. It 's a pity that so handsome and so agreeable a 
young lady should be hanged, Mr. Dunscomb !" 

" Timms, you are as shrewd a fellow, in your own way, as I 
know. Your law does not amount to any great matter, nor do 
you take hold of the strong points of a case very often ; but you 
perform wonders with the weaker. In the way of an opinion on 
facts, I know few men more to be relied on. Tell me, then, 
frankly, what do you think of the guilt or innocence of Mar^" 
:VIonson?" 



142 T 11 K WAYS O F THE 11 O U 11. 

Timms screwed up his mouth, passed a hand over his hniWj 
and did not answer for near a minute. 

" Perhaps it is right, after all, that we should understand each 
other on this subject/^ he then said. " We are associated as 
counsel, and I feel it a great honour to be so associated, 'Squire 
Dunscomb, I give you my word ; and it is proper that we should 
be as free with each other as brothers. In the fii-st place, then, 
I never saw such a client before, as this same lady — for lady I 
suppose we must call her until she is competed " 

" Convicted ! — You cannot think there is much danger of thaty 
Timms?'' 

" We never know; sir ; we never know. I have lost cases of 
which I was sure, and gained them of which I had no hopes — 
cases which I certainly ought not to have gained — ag'in all law 
and the facts." 

'-' Ay, that came of the horse-shed, and the sleeping of two in 
a bed." 

"Perhaps it did, 'Squire," returned Timms, laughing very 
freely, though without making any noise ; " perhaps it did. When 
the small-pox is about, there is no telling who may take it. As 
for this case, 'Squire Dunscomb, it is my opinion we shall have 
to run for disagreements. If we can get the juries to' disagree 
once or twice, and can get a change of venue, with a couple of 
charges, the deuce is in it if a man of your experience do n't 
corner them so tightly, they '11 give the matter up, rather than 
have any more trouble about it. After all, the state can't gain 
much by hanging a young woman that nobody knows, even if 
she be a little aristocratical. AVe must get her to change her 
dress altogether, and some of her ways too ; which, in her circum- 
stances, I call downright hanging ways ; and the sooner she is 
lid of them, the better." 

" I see that you do not think us very strong on tlie merits, 
Timms, which is as much as admitting the guilt of our client. 1 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 143 

was a good deal inclined to suspect the worst myself; but two or 
three more interviews, and what my nephew Jack Wilmoter tells 
lie, have produced a change. I am now strongly inclined to 
believe her innocent. She has some great and secret cause of 
apprehension, I "wall allow; but I do not think these unfortunate 
Goodwins have anything to do with it.^' 

" Waal, one never knows. The verdict, if ' not guilty,' will 
be just as good as if she was as innocent as a child a year old. 
I see how the work is to be done. All the laWj and the summing 
up, will fall to your share ; while the out-door work will be mine. 
We may carry'her through — though I 'm of opinion that, if we 
do, it will be more by means of bottom than by means of foot. 
There is one thing that is very essential, sir — the money must 
liold out.'' 

" Do you want a refresher so soon, Timms ? — Jack tells 
'ne that she has given you two hundred and fifty dollars 
ilready !" 

" I acknowledge it, sir ; and a very respectable fee it is — yr/u 
ought to have a thousand, 'Squire." 

" I have not received a cent, nor do I mean to touch anv of 
her money. My feelings are in the case, and I am willing to 
work for nothing." 

Timms gave his old master a quick but scrutinizing glance. 
Dunscomb was youthful, in all respects, for his time of life ; and 
many a man has loved, and married, and become the parent of a 
floui-ishing fiimily, who had seen all the days he had seen. That 
glance was to inquire if it were possible that the uncle and ne- 
phew were likely to be rivals, and to obtain as much knowledge 
as could be readily gleaned in a quick, jealous look. But the 
counsellor was calm as usual, and no tinge of colo.ur, no sigh, no 
gentleness of expression, betrayed the existence of the master 
passion. It was reported among the bachelor's intimates that 
formerly, when he was about fivc-and-twcnty, he had had an 



141 T II K W A V S O l<' T II K 11 O U 11. 

[•ITji.ii' of the heart, whieh had taken such deep hold that ovcil 
the hidy's marriage with another man had not destroyed its im- 
pression. That marriage was said not to have been happy, and 
was succoeded by a second, that w:>s still less so; though the 
parlies weni allhient, educated, and possessed all the means that 
are eonimonly supposed to produce felicity. A single child was 
the issue of the fij'st marriage, and its birth had shortly preceded 
the separation that followed. Three yciU'S later the father died, 
leaving the whole of a very ample fortune to this child, coupled 
with the strange request that Dunscomb, once the betrothed of 
her mother, sliould be tlie trustee and guardian of the daughter. 
This extraordiiKiry demand had not been complied with, and 
Dunscomb had not seen any of the piu'ties from the time ho 
broke with his mistress. The heiress married young, died within 
the year, and left another heiress ; but no fiu-ther allusion to our 
counsellor was made, in any of the later wills and settlements. 
Once, indeed, he had been professionally consulted concerning 
the dc\ascs in favour of the granddaughter — a certain Mildred 
IMillington — who was a second-cousin to Michael of that n;une, 
and as rich as he was poor. For some years, a sort of vague 
expectation prevailed that these two young Millingtons might 
marry; but a feud existed in the family, and little or no inter- 
course was permitted. The early removal of the young lady to 
a distant school prevented such a result; and IMichael, in due 
time, fell within the inlluenee of Sarah Wilmeter's gentleness, 
beauty, and affection. 

Timms came to the conclusion that his old master was not in 
love. 

^•^It is very convenient to be rich, 'Squire," this singuhir being 
remarked ; " and I dare say it may be very pleasant to practise 
for notliiiig, when a man has his pocket full of money. I am 
p()or, and have particular satisfaction in a good warm fee. Hy 
the Avay. sir, my part of the business requires plenty of money 



T II K W A V S () 1'' T II li HOUR. 145' 

I do not think 1 can even coinnicncc ()p(;raii(»ii,s witli less than 
(ive hundred doUars." 

Diiiiscoiiib leaned ])n<jk, slniiched forlli an arm, drew liiH 
iihe<(iie-bo()k /roni its niclu;, and llJied a che((ue lor the Huni just 
inontioned. This lie quietly handed to 'rimins, without ;uskiiig 
for any receipt; for, while he knew that his old student and 
(ellow-pructitioner was no more to be tnisted in matters of prao- 
ticc than was an eel in tho hand, he knew that he was scrupu- 
lously honest in matters of account. There was not a man in 
the state to whom Dunscomb would sooner confide the care of 
uncounted gold, or the administration of an estate, or the j)ay- 
mont of a legacy, than this very individual ; who, he also well 
knew, would not scruple to set all the provisions of the law at 
naught, in order to obl«iin a verdict, when his feelings were really 
in the case. 

'^ There, Timms," said the senior counsel, glancing at his 
draft bcfcn-e he hand(!d it to the other, in order to see that it was 
correct; "there is wh:it you ask for. Five hundred for expenses, 
and half as much as a fee." 

" Thank you, sir. I hope this is not gi-atuitous, as well as tho 
services?" 

" It is not. There is no want of funds, and I am put in pos- 
ficssiou of sufficient money to carry us through with credit; but 
it is as a trustee, and not as a fee. This, indeed, is the most 
extraordinary p:u-t of the whole affair; — to find a delicate, edu- 
cated, accomplished lady, with her pockets well lined, in such a 
situation I" 

"Why, '8(pnre," said Timms, passing his hand down his 
chin, ;nid trying to look simple and disinterested, "1 am afr.-ud 
clients like ours are often flush. I have been employcid about 
the Tombs a good deal in my time, and I have gin 'rally found 
that tJio richest clients were tho biggest rogues." 

7 



11 (5 T II 10 W A V H OK T II 10 II (> |l K. 

l)uii,sr()ii\l> g:ivc his companion ;i long nnd t'oiilrm])lativo look. 
Ho suvv thai TiiuniH did not entertain (piito uh lavouruble an 
oi)inion of JMary Monson as ho did himself, or ruther that ho w;m 
fast getting to cntertjiin; for his own distrust originally was 
Bcaret^ly less Ihau that of this hackneyed deal(U-\Yith luinian viocb. 
A long, close, and string(>nt examination of all of Timnis's facUs 
Bncceed<Hl — facls that had been gleaned l>y collecting stateniente 
un the spot. Then a consuUjitiou followed, from which it might 
be a little ])rtMnatinx), ju;jt uow, to mine tho veil. 



T II K WAYH OF T II K II () II U. J 47 



CIIAPTKR IX. 

'• Her Hpcccli is iiolhiiijr, 

Yet lh« unKliajxMl iihij of it doth inovo 

'I'lie hcaror.s to <;oII((lioii. Tlmy niiii at it. 

And bolcli the wor<ltH up fit to tli<;ir own llioii/rlils." 

Ilainlrt. 

TiiK reader is nof, to be aurpri.sed at the inliin:iey wliieli existed 
bcUv(;(;ri TlioinaH Dunscomb and ilio lialf-cducatcd WMiii-nido being 
who wa,H aHSOciatod witb hitn a.s eouiiscd in tlu; iiiiportafil, eai:s(! 
that was now soon to be tried. Sueli intiiriJKne.s an; by no ni(!aiis 
uiieoinnion in the counse of cventH; men ort(!n overl<»okin^ ^n;a.t 
dissinjibirilJcs in i)rinei])h3M, as well as in iMtrsonid <jualities, in 
manngin^ their assoeiatioiiH, ho far an th(;y arc conneet(!d with 
ilic afi'air.s of tliis world. Tlio circumHlanco that Tinnnn had 
studied in our counHellor's ollico would, an a matter of courHO^ 
produce certain relations b(;tvv(;en thciii in aft(!r-lif(!; but the 
student had made himself useful to his fornuir ma,ster on a ^njal 
variety of occasions, and was fre(iuently employed by him wh(!n- 
ever there w;is a cause depending in the courts of Duk(!'s, the 
county in which the unpolished, half-educatcsd, })ut hard-workimj; 
and successful county practitioner had established himself. It 
may be questioned if Dunscomb really knew all the agencicH set 
in motion l»y his coadjutor in difHeult eases; but, wlMithcr h«! did 
or not, it is finite certain that many of them wf^n; of a, chanieter 
not to K(!e the llf^ht. It is very much th(5 fashion of our ^ood 
republic to turn up its nos(; at all other lands, a haiiit no doubl 



148 T 11 K WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

inherite-l from our great ancestors the Englishi; and one of its 
standing themes of reproach are the legal corruptions and abuses 
known to exist in France, Spain, Italy, &c. ; all over the world, 
in short, except among ourselves. So far as the judges are con- 
cerned, there is a surprising adherence to duty, when bribes alone 
are concerned, no class of men on earth being probably less ob- 
noxious to just imputations of this character than the innumera- 
ble corps of judicial officers ; unpaid, poor, hard-worked, and we 
might almost add unhonoured, as they are. That cases in which 
bribes are taken do occur, we make no doubt; it would be 
assuming too much in favour of human nature to infer the con- 
trary ; but, under the system of publicity that prevails, it would 
not be easy for this crime to extend very far without its being 
exposed. It is greatly to the credit of the vast judicial corps of 
the States, that bribery is an offence which does not appear to b»! 
even suspected at all; or, if there be exceptions to the rule, thev 
exist in but few and isolated cases. Here, however, our eulogies 
on American justice must cease. All that Timms has intimated 
and Dunscomb has asserted concerning the juries is true; and 
the evil is one that each day increases. The tendency of every- 
thing belonging to the government is to throw power directly 
into the hands of the people, who, in nearly all cases, use it as 
men might be supposed to do who ai-e perfectly irresponsible, 
have only a remote, and half the time an invisible interest in its 
exercise ; who do not feel or understiind the consequences of their 
own deeds, and have a pleasure in asserting a seeming independ- 
ence, and of appearing to think and act for themselves. Undei 
3uch a regime it is self-apparent that principles and law must 
^uiier; and so the result proves daily, if not hourly. The insti- 
tution of the jury, one of very questionable utility in its best 
aspects in a country of really popidar institutions, becomes nearly 
intolerable, unless the coui'ts exercise a strong and salutary influ- 
ence on the discharge of its duties. This influence, unhappily, huh 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 149 

bei'ii gradually lessening among us for the last half ceatury, until 
it has reached a point where nothing is more common than to 
find the judge charging the law one way, and the jury determining 
it another. In most cases, it is true, there is a remedy for this 
abuse of power, but it is costly, and ever attended with that delay 
in hope "which maketh the heart sick.'' Any one, of even the 
dullest apprehension, must, on a little reflection, perceive that a 
condition of things in which the ends of justice are defeated, or 
BO procrastinated as to produce the results of defeat, is one of the 
least desirable of all those in which men can be placed imder the 
social compact ; to say nothing of its corrupting and demoralizing 
effects on the public mind. 

All this Dunscomb saw, more vividly, perhaps, than most 
others of the profession, for men gradually get to be so accus- 
tomed to abuses as not only to tolerate them, but to come to 
consider them as evils inseparable from human frailty. It was 
certain, however, that while our worthy counsellor so far sub- 
mitted to the force of things as frequently to close his eyes to 
Timms's manoeuvres, a weakness of which nearly every one is 
guilty who has much to do with the management of men and 
things, he was never known to do aught himself that was un- 
worthy of his high standing and well-merited reputation at the 
bar. There is nothing unusual in this convenient compromise 
between direct and indirect relations with that which is wron^r. 

It had early been found necessary to employ local counsel in 
Mary Monson's case, and Timms was recommended by his old 
master as one every way suited to the particular offices needed, 
^lost of the duties to be performed were strictly legal ; though it 
is not to be concealed that some soon presented themselves that 
would not bear the light. John Wilmeter communicated to 
Tunms the particular state of the testimony, as he and Mir^hael 
Millington had been enabled to get at it ; and among other things 
ue stated his conviction that the occupants of the farm nearest tc 



160 T II E W A i^ S O F THE II O U R. 

the late dwelling of the Goodwins were likely to jrove some of 
the most dangerous of the witnesses against their client. This 
family consisted of a sister-in-law, the IMrs. Bm-ton alrciidy men- 
tioned, three mimarried sisters, and a brother, -who was the hus- 
band of the person fii'st named. On this hint Timms immediately 
put himself in communication with tliese neighbours, concealing 
from them, as well as from all others but good Mrs. Gott, that 
he was retained in the case at all. 

Timms "was soon struck with the hints and half-revealed state- 
ments of the persons of this household; more especially with 
those of the female portion of it. The man appeared to him to 
have obsen'cd less than his wife and sisters ; but even he had 
much to relate, though, as Timms flmcied, more that he had 
gleaned from those ai'ound him, than from his own observations. 
The sisters, however, had a good deal to say ; while the wife, though 
silent and guarded, seemed to this observer, as well as to young 
IMillington, to know the most. When pressed to tell all, JMrs. 
Burton looked melancholy and reluctant, frequently returning to 
the subject of her own accord when it had been casually dropped, 
but never speaking explicitly, though often invited so to do. It 
was not the cue of the counsel for the defence to di-ag out unfa- 
vom-iible evidence; and Timms employed certain confidential 
agents, whom he often used in the management of his causes, to 
sift this testimony as well as it oould be done without the con- 
straining power of the law. The result was not very satisftictory, 
in any sense, more appetxi'ing to be suppressed than was related. 
It was feared that the legal officers of the State would meet with 
better success. 

The investigations of the junior counsel did not end here. 1 le 
BaAV that the public sentiment was setting m a ciu'rent so strongly 
against Mary ]Monson, that he soon determined to counteract it, 
as well as might be, by producing a reaction. This is a xqtj 
oommoii, not to say a very powerful agent, in the managemenl; 



THE WAYS OF THE H L R. 151 

of all interests that are subject to popular oi)inion, in a demo- 
sracy. Even the applicant for public favour is none the worse 
for beginning his advances by "a little aversion," provided he 
can contrive to make the premeditated change in his favour take 
the aspect of a reaction. It may not be so easy to account for 
thiij caprice of the common mind, as it is certain that it exists. 
Perhaps we like to yield to a seeming generosity, have a plea- 
3ure in appearing to pardon, find a consolation for our own secret 
consciousness of errors, in thus extending favour to the errors 
of others, and have more satisfaction in preferring those who are 
fallible, than in exalting the truly upright and immaculate ; if 
indeed, any such there be. Let the cause be what it may, we 
think the facts to be beyond dispute; and so thought Timms 
also, for he no sooner resolved to counteract one public opinion 
by means of another, than he set about the task with coolness 
and intelligence — in short, with a mixture of all the good and 
bad qualities of the man. 

The first of his measures was to counteract, as much as he 
could, the eiFects of certain paragraphs that had appeared in 
some of the New York journals. A man of Timms's native 
shrewdness had no difl&culty in comprehending the more vulgai" 
moral machinery of a daily press. Notwithstanding its^we's,' 
and its pretension to represent public opinion, and to protect the 
common interests, he thoroughly understood it was merely one 
mode of advancing the particular views, sustaining the personal 
schemes, and not unfrequently of gratifying the low malignity of 
a single individual ; the press in America differing from that oi 
nearly all other countries in the fact that it is not controlled by asso-- 
ciations, and d" s not reflect the decisions of many minds, or coii 
tend for principles tl)at, by their very character, have a tendency 
■io elevate the thoughts. There are some immaterial exceptions ag 
relates to the latter characteristic, perhaps, principally growing 
Dut of the great extra-constitutional question of slavery, that 



152 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

Las quite unnecessarily been drawn into the discussions of the 
limes through the excited warmth of zealots ; but, as a rule, the 
exciting political questions that elsewhere compose the great 
theme of the newspapers, enlarging their views, and elevating 
their articles, may be regarded as settled among ourselves. In 
the particular case with which Timms was now required to 
deal, there was neither favour nor malice to counteract. The 
Injustice, and a most cruel injustice it was, was merely in cater- 
ing to a morbid desire for the marvellous in the vulgar, which 
might thus be turned to profit. 

Among the reporters there exists the same diversity of quali- 
ties as among other men, beyond a question ; but the tendency 
of the use of all power is to abuse ; and Timms was perfectly 
aware that these men had far more pride in the influence they 
wielded, than conscience in its exercise. A ten or a twenty dollar 
note, judiciously applied, would do a great deal with this " Palla- 
dium of our Liberties, '^ — there being at least a dozen of these 
important safeguards interested in the coming trial — our associate 
counsel very well knew; and Dunscomb suspected that some 
Buch application of the great persuader had been made, in con 
sequence of one or two judicious and well-turned paragraphs tha 
appeared soon after the consultation. But Timms^s management 
of the press was mainly directed to that of the county newspa- 
pers. There were three of these; and as they had better cha- 
racters than most of the Mauhattanese journals, so were they 
more confided in. It is true, that the whig readere never heeded 
in the least anything that was said in " The Duke's County De- 
mocrat;'' but the friends of the last took their revenge in discre- 
diting all that appeared in the columns of the Biberry Whig. In 
this respect, the two great parties of the country were on a par ; 
each manifesting a faith that, in a better cause, might suffice to 
move mountains; and, on the other hand, an unbelief that drove 
r.hoiu into the dangerous folly of disregarding their foes. As 



THE WAVR OF THE HOUR. 15-3 

Mary Mouson had nothing to do with politics, it was not difficult 
to get suitable paragraphs inserted in the hostile columns, which 
was also done within eight-ar.d-forty hours after the return of the 
junior counsel to his own abode. 

Timms, however, was far from trusting to the newspapers 
alone. He felt that it might be well enough to set ^ fire to fight 
fire ;' but his main reliance was on the services that could be ren- 
dered by a timely and judicious use of ^Hhe little member." 
Talkers was what he wanted ', and well did he know where to 
find them, and how to get them at work. A few he paid in a 
direct, business-like way; taking no vouchers for the sums be- 
stowed, the reader may be assured ; but entering each item care- 
fully in a little memorandum-book kept for his own private infor- 
mation. These strictly confidential agents went to work with 
experienced discretion but great industry, and soon had some ten 
or fifteen fluent female friends actively engaged in circulating 
"They says," in their respective neighbourhoods. 

Timms had reflected a gi*eat deal on the character of the 
defence it might be most prudent to get up and enlarge on. In- 
sanity had been worn out by too much use of late ; and he scarce 
gave that plea a second thought. This particular means of de- 
fence had been discussed between him and Dunscomb, it is true ; 
but each of the counsel felt a strong repugnance against resorting 
to it ; the one on account of his indisposition to rely on anything 
but the truth ; the other, to use his own mode of expressing him- 
belf on the occasion in question, because he " believed that jurors 
could no longer be humbugged with that plea. There have been 
all sorts of madmen and madwomen — " 

" Gentlemen and lady murderers" — put in Dunscomb, drily. 

"I ask your pardon, ^Squire; but, since you give me the use 
of my nose, I will ofiend as little as possible with the tongue — 
though, I rather conclude" — a form of expression much in 
favour with Timms — "that should our verdict be 'guilty,' you 



I •'>4 T II IS AV A Y S OF THE HOUR. 

will be disposed to allow there may be one lady criminal in the 
world/' 

" She is a most extraordinary creature, Timms ; bothers me 
more than any client I ever had 1'^ 

" Indeed ! Waal, I had set her down as just the contrary — 
for to me she seems to be as unconcerned as if the wise four-and- 
twcnty had not presented her to justice in the name of the peo- 
ple/' 

"It is not in that sense that I am bothered — no client ever 
gave counsel less trouble than Mary Monson in that respect. To 
me, Timms, she does not appear to have any concern in reference 
to the result." 

" Supreme innocence, or a well-practised experience. I have 
defended many a person whom I knew to be guilty, and two or 
three whom I believed to be innocent ; but never before had aa 
cool a client as this V 

And very true was this. Even the announcement of the pre- 
sentment by the grand jury appeared to give Mary Monson no 
great alarm. Perhaps sho anticipated it from the first, and had 
prepared herself for the event, by an exercise of a firnmess little 
common to her sex until the moments of extreme trial, when 
their courage would seem to rise with the occasion. On her 
companion, whom Timms had so elegantly styled her 'Lady 
Friend,' certainly as thoroughly vulgar an expression as was ever 
drawn into the service of the heroics in gentility, warm-hearted 
and faithful Marie Moulin, the intelligence produced far more 
effect. It will be remembered that Wilmeter overheard the 
single cry of " Mademoiselle" when this Swiss was first admitted 
to the gaol ; after which an impenetrable veil closed around their 
proceedings. The utmost good feeling and confidence were appa- 
rent in the intercourse between the young mistress and her maid ; 
if, indeed, Marie might thus be tenned, after the manner in which 
she was treated. So tar from being kept at the distance which if 



THE WAYS OF TPIE HOUR. 15£ 

IH usual to observe towards an attendant, the Swiss was admitted 
to Mary J^Ionson's table; and to tlie eyes of indifferent observeia 
she might very well pass for what Timms had so elegantly called 
a "lady friend.'' But Jack Wilmeter knew too much of the 
world to be so easily misled. It is true, that when he paid his 
short visits to the gaol, Marie IMouiin sat sewing at the pri- 
soner's side, and occasionally she even hummed low, national 
airs while he was present; but knowing the original condition 
of the maid-servant, our young man was not to be persuaded that 
his uncle's client was her peer, any more than were the jurors 
who, agreeably to that profound mystification of the common law, 
are thus considered and termed. Had not Jack Wilmeter known 
the real position of Marie Moulin, her "Mademoiselle" would 
have let him deeper into the secrets of the two than it is proba- 
ble either ever imagined. This word, in common with those of 
"Monsieur" and "Madame," are used, by French servants, dif 
ferently from what they are used in general society. Unaccom- 
panied by the names, the domestics of France commonly and 
exclusively apply them to the heads of families, or those they 
more immediately serve. Thus, it was far more probable that 
Marie Moulin, meeting a mere general acquaintance in the pri- 
soner, would have called her " Mademoiselle Marie," or " Made- 
moiselle Monson," or whatever might be the name by which she 
had known the young lady, than by the general and still more 
respectful appellation of "Mademoiselle." On this peculiarity 
of deportment Jack Wilmeter speculated profoundly ; for a young 
man who is just beginning to submit to the passion of love is 
very apt to fancy a thousand things that he would never dream 
of seeing in his cooler moments. Still, John had fancied himself 
bound in the spells of another, until this extraordinary client of 
bis uncle's so unexpectedly crossed his path. Such is the human 
heart. 

Good and kind-hearted Mrs. Gott allowed the prisoner mos/ 



ISO T II 10 W A Y S () K 'I' II K !l () U V., 

of tlio i)rivili'g(!S that ;it all coniixirted with licr duty. TiicreascJ 
precautions wero takc^n for the security of the accused, as soon ixv 
the presentment of the grand jury -vyas made, by a direct order 
from the court; but, these attended to, it was in the power of hei 
whom Timms might have called the "lady sheriif/' to grant a 
great many littlt^ indidgences, which were quite cheerfully a(^ 
corded, and, to all appearances, as gratefully accepted. 

John Wilmcter was permitted to pay two regular yisits at the 
grate each day, and as many more as his ingenuity could invent 
plausible excuses for making. On all occasions Mrs. Gott opened 
the outer door with the greatest good will ; and, like a true woman 
as she is, slu^ had the tact to keep as far aloof from the barred 
window wherc^ tlu; parties met, as the dimensions of the outer room 
would allow. Mario M(Hilin was equally considerate, generally 
plying her needle at such times, in the depth of the cell, with 
twice the industry manifested on other occasions. Nevertheless, 
nothing passed between the young people that called for this de- 
licate reserve, 'i'he conversation, it is true, turned as little as 
possible on the strange and awkward predicament of one of tlie 
collo(|uists, or the enq)loymeut that kept the young man at 
Biberry. Nor did it turn at all on love. There is a prenu)nitory 
state in these attacks of the heart, during which skilful obscrvei'S 
may discover the symptoms of approaching disease, but which do 
not yet betray the aetual existence of the epidemic. On the part 
of fJaek himself, it is true that these synq)toms were getting to 
be not only somewhat ai)i)arent, but they wore evidently fast 
becoming more and more distinct; while, on the part of the 
lady, any one disposed to be critical might have seen that her 
colour deepciuMl, and there were signs of daily increasing interest 
ni them, as the hours for tlu\<!e interviews approached. She was 
interested in her young legal adviser; and interest, with women, 
is the usual precursor of the master-passion. AVo bolide thi? 
man who cannot interest, but who only anmses I 



•r n \<] w A \ H () K 'I' II I': ii (» ii li. i .') • 

Althoun;li MO liltlu to Mu! |)(>Ii»l- w:i.s Huid in IIk; hIkhI- ilialo^iniH 
botw(M'M Wilmcliir :iii(l Miivy IMoiiMoii, then; went (linlo^^iics lu;l(J 
wil.li l.lm ;^<>(m1 IMth. (UAI, ))y cnvli of llu; j):ir(i(',s r('S|K'c(,iv('l)', in 
wliicli liiSH roHcrvc; wan ubHcrvedj and Muj luNirL was juM-niitUid iu 
have iMoro iiilliKiiuH; ovcir Uic, iiiovh^iikmiIh of iIk; toii<^ii(!. The 
first of tlioso coiivcrHalioiis tJial. wc deem il, ii('c.(!Hsar_y l,o nilaU;, 
Uial, took |»Iac(! aflcr Mk^ prcsciidiicut, was one, llial, iiiiiiH;(lia,t(dy 
r}iU!C(!i!<lc(l an inlAM-viow at llu! barnid window, and wliicli (Kumrrod 
t\\wx\ days Hu))SC(|ii(;n(.ly to tlu; consnllalion in town, and two 
uflcr 'I'iiimiM's niacliiiiciy was a<'riv('ly at work in tlic; county. 

" Well, liow do yon lind licr spirits to-day, IMr. Wilinin^^fton ?" 
askcid Mrs. (Jolt, kindly, and (tatcliln^ tin; convt'iitwuial sound of 
th(i yonn;i; man's name, from lia,vlnj^ heard it so oflni in thti 
inoulJi of MI<-Iiacl Miirnin;t(,ii. "It is an awful staJi; for any 
hnmaii hciii-!; to hi; in, a,n<l siu! a y<>iin<r, ddlicati! woman ; to Im; 
tricil for miirdi'r, and for scitting fire to a lu/nsc, and all so 
h;>on !" 

" 1M»(! most extraordinary part of this very extraordinary bnsi- 
n<!SH, JMrs. («ott," Jack rcplic*!, "is tlm pcrfcci, indillen-ncc! of 
MisH Monson to her fcarfnl jeopardy! To me, she sct^ms much 
inoro anxious to jx; closely immnnid in ^aol, than to (!S<-ap(! from 
a trial tha-t oiu; would think, of its(!lf, mi;_dit proV(! more than so 
delicate; a youji^ lady eonld Ixsar up a1.91.inst." 

" VcM-y triK!, Mr. VViImin.i^ton ; and she lutver S(!ems to think 
of it at all I You see what she has done, niri"' 

" Done ! — Nothing; in particuhir, I hope?" 

"[don't know what you call i)artieular; hut to me it doe;^ 
K(!em to he nnnarkahiy particular. I)idn't yon hear a, |»iano, and 
anoth<!r iruisical instrument, as yon aj)proa(:h(!d tin; ;^aol ?" 

" I <lid, certainly, and wondered who could pro(]uce such a/lmi- 
cable music in niberry." 

" Jiiberry has a great many musical hidicH, I can tell you, Mr, 
Wilmiuf'ton," refurrr>d MrH. Oott, a little coldly, tliough licJ 



158 THE WAYS OF THE H O IJ 11, 

good-nature instantly returned, and shone out in one of her most 
friendly smiles ; " and those, too, that have been to town, and 
heard all the great performers from Europe, of whom there have 
been so many of late years. I have heard good judges say that 
Puke's county is not much behind the Island of Manhattan with 
the piano in particular/^ 

" I remember, when at Rome, to have heard an Englishman 
say that some young ladies from Lincolnshire were astonishing 
the Romans with their Italian accent, in singing Italian operas," 
mswered Jack, smiling. " There is no end, my dear Mrs. Gott, 
to provincial perfection in all parts of the world. ^' 

" I believe I understand yoit, but I am not at all oiFended at 
your meaning. We are not very sensitive about the gaols. One 
thing I will admit, however ; Mary Monson's harp is the first, I 
rather think, that was ever heard in Biberry. Gott tells me" — 
this was the familiar manner in which the good woman spoke of 
the high sheriff of Duke's, as the journals affectedly call that 
functionary — '^ that he once met some German girls strolling 
about the county, playing and singing for money, and who had 
just such an instrument, but not one-half as elegant ; and it has 
brought to my mind a suspicion that Mary Monson may be one 
of these travelling musicians." 

" What ? to stroll about the country, and play and sing in the 
streets of villages V 

"No, not that; I see well enough she cannot be of that sort. 
But, there are all descriptions of musicians, as well as all de- 
scriptions of doctors and lawyers, Mr. Wilmington. Why may 
not Mary Monson be one of these foreigners who get so rich by 
singing and playing ? She has just as much money as she wantsj, 
and spends it freely too. This I know, from seeing the manner 
in v/hich she uses it. For my part, I wish she had less musio 
and less money just now ; for they are doing her no great good 
in Biberry !" 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 159 

" Why not ? Can any human being find fault with melody 
and a liberal spirit ?'' 

" Folks will find fault with anything, Mr. Wilmington, when 
they have nothing better to do. You know how it is with our 
villagers here, as well as I do. Most people think Mary Monson 
i^ilty, and a few do not. Those that think her guilty say it is 
insolent in her to be singing and playing in the very gaol in 
which she is confined 3 and talk loud against her for that very 
reason.'' 

" Would they deprive her of a consolation as innocent as that 
«he obtains from her harp and her piano, in addition to her other 
fiufierings ! Your Biberry folk must be particularly hard-hearted, 
Mrs. Gott.'' 

" Biberry people are like York people, and American people, 
and English people, and all other people, I fancy, if the truth 
was known, Mr. Wilmington. AVhat they don't like they disap- 
prove of, that 's all. Now, was I one of them that believe Mary 
Monson did actually murder the Goodwins, and plunder their 
drawers, and set fire to their house, it would go ag'in my feelings 
too, to hear her music, well as she plays, and sweet as she draws 
out the sounds from those wires. Some of our folks take the 
introduction of the harp into the gaol particularly hard V 

*■'- Why that instrument more than another ? It was the one 
on which David played.'' 

"They say it was David's favourite, and ought only to be 
»^ruck to religious words and sounds." 

" It is a little surprising that your exceseively conscientious 
people so often forget that charity is the chiefest of all the Chris- 
tian gi-aces." 

" They think that the love of God comes fii'st, and that they 
ought never to lose sight of his honour and glory. But I agree 
with you, Mr. Wilmington ; ' feel for your fellow-creatures' is 
my rule j and I 'm certain I am then feeling for my Maker. 



IbO T II E W A V S O F THE HOUR 

Vcs ; many of the neiglibours insist that a harp is unsuited to a 
gaol, and they tell mc that the instrument on which Mary Monsoii 
plays is a real antique/' 

" Antique ! What, a harp made in remote ages ?" 

"No, I don't mean that exactly,'' returned Mrs. Gott, colour- 
ing a little ; " but a harp made so much like those used by the 
Psalmist, that one could not tell them apart." 

" I dare say David had many varieties of stringed instruments, 
from the lute up ; but harps are very common, Mrs. Gott — so 
common that we hear them now in the streets, and on board the 
steamboats even. There is nothing new in them, even in this 
country." 

" Yes, sir, in the streets and on board the boats ; but the public 
will tolerate things done for them, that they won't tolerate in in- 
dividuals. I suppose you know that, Mr. Wilmington?" 

" We soon learn as much in this country — but the gaols are 
made for the public, and the harps ought to be privileged in them, 
as well as in other public places." 

" I don't know how it is — I'm not very good at reasoning — 
but, somehow or another, the neighbours don't like that Mary 
Monson should play on the harp ; or even on the piano, situated 
as she is. I do wish, ]Mr. Wilmington, you could give her a hint 
on the subject?" 

" Shall I tell her that the music is unpleasant to you T' 

" As far from that as possible ! I delight in it ; but the neigh- 
bours do not. Then she never shows herself at the grate, to folks 
outside, like all the other prisoners. The public wants to see and 
to converse with her." 

" You surely could not expect a young and educated female to 
be making a spectacle of herself, for the gratificatian of the eyes 
of all the vulgar and curious in and about Bibcrry !" 

" Hush — Mr. Wilmington, you are most too young to take 
care of such a cause. 'Squire Timms, now, is a man who under- 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 161 

Stands Duke's county, and he would teU you it is not wise to 
talk of the vulgar hereabouts ; at least not until th 3 verdict is in. 
Btisides, most people would think that folks have a right to look 
at a prisoner in the common gaol. I know they act as if they 
thought so/^ 

"It is hard enough to be accused and confined, without sub- 
jecting the party to any additional degradation. No man has a 
right to ask to look at Miss Monson, but those she sees lit to re- 
ocive, and the officials of the law. It would be an outrage to 
tolerate mere idle curiosity.'' 

" Well, if you think so, Mr. Wilmington, do not let everybody 
know it. Several of the clergy have either been here, or have 
sent to offer their visits, if acceptable." ' 

"And what has been the answer?" demanded Jack, a little 
eagerly. 

" IMary Monson has received all these offers as if she had been 
1 queen ! politely, but coldly ; once or twice, or when the Me- 
thodist and the Baptist came, and they commonly come first, 1 
thought she seemed hurt. Her colour went and came like light- 
ning. Now, she was pale as death — next, as bright as a rose — - 
what a colour she has at times, Mr. Wilmington ! Duke's is 
i-ather celebrated for rosy faces ; but it would be hard to find her 
equal when she is not thinking." 

"Of what, my good Mrs. Gott?" 

" Why, most of the neighbours say, of the Goodwins. For 
my part, as I do not believe she ever hurt a hair of the head of 
the old man and old woman, I can imagine that she has disa- 
greeable things to think of that are in nowise connected with 
them." 

" She certainly has disagreeable things to make her cheeks 
pale that are connected with that unfortunate couple. But, } 
ought to know all : To what else do the neighbours object?" 

"To the foreign tongues — they think when a grand jury ho.^ 



162 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

found a bill, the accused ought to talk no tiling but plain Englisli, 
BO that all near her can understand what she says." 

" In a word, it is not thought sufficient to be accused of such 
a crime as mm-der, but all other visitations must follow, to rendei 
the charge as horrible as may be V 

" That is not the way they look at it. The public fancies that 
in a public matter they have a right to know all about a thing. '^ 

" And when there is a failuro in the proof, they imagine, in 
vent, and assert.'^ 

" 'Tis the ways of the land. I suppose all nations have their 
ways, and follow them." 

" One thing surprises me a little in this matter," Jack rejoined, 
after musing a moment ; " it is this. In most cases in which 
women have any connection with the law, the leaning in this 
country, and more particularly of late, has been in their favour." 

" WeU," Mrs. Gott quietly but quickly interrupted, " and 
ought it not to be so?" 

" It ought not, unless the merits are with them. Justice is 
intended to do that which is equitable ; and it is not fair to assume 
that women are always right, and men always wrong. I know 
my uncle thinks that not only the decisions of late years, but 
the laws, have lost sight of the wisdom of the past, and are gra- 
dually placing the women above the men, making her instead of 
him. the head of the family." 

"Well, Mr. Wilmington, and isn't that quite right?'' de- 
manded Mrs. Gott, with a good-natured nod. 

" IMy uncle thinks it very wrong, and that by a mistaken gal 
lantry the peace of families is undermined, and their discipline 
destroyed ; as, in punishment, by a false philanthropy, rogues are 
petted at the expense of honest folk. Such are the opinions ^f 
Mr. Thomas Dunscomb, at least." 

" Ay, Mr. Thomas Dunscomb is an old bachelor ; and bachclorw' 
wives, and bachelors' children, as we well know, are always ad 



TIIK WATS OF THE HOUR. 163 

mirably managed. It is a pity they are not more numerous/' 
retorted the indomitably good-humoured wife of the sheriff. 
'' But, you see that, in this case of Mary Monson, the feeling is 
against, rather than in favour of a woman. That may be owing 
to the fact that one of the persons murdered was a lady also.^' 

" Dr. McBrain says that both were females — or lady-murdered 
— as I suppose we must call them ; as doubtless you have heard, 
Mrs. Grott. Perhaps he is believed, and the fact may mstke doubly 
against the accused/' 

" He is not believed. Everybody hereabouts kriotcs, that ono 
of the skeletons was that of Peter Groodwin. They say that the 
District Attorney means to show that, beyond all dispute. They 
tell me that it is a law, in a case of this sort, first to show there 
has been a murder ; second, to show who did it." 

" This is something like the course of proceeding, I believe ; 
though I never sat on a trial for this offence. It is of no great 
moment what the district attorney does, so that he do not prove 
that Miss Monson is guilty ; and this, my kind-hearted Mrs. Gott, 
you and I do not believe he can do.'' 

" In that we are agreed, sir. I no more think that Mary Mon- 
son did these things, than I think I did them myself." 

Jack expressed his thanks in a most grateful look, and there 
the interview terminated. 



I m THE W A Y B OF THE HOUR 



CHAPTER X. 

*• Tn peace, Love tunes tlie shepherd's reed ; 
Til war lie mounts the warrior's steed ; 
In halls, in gay attire is seen; 
]n hamlets, dances on the green. 
Love rules the court, the camp, tlie grove, 
And men below, and saints above ; 
For love is heaven, and heaven is love." 

Scott. 

•' It is the ways of the land/' said good Mrs. Gott^ in one of 
her remai-ks in the conversation just related. Other usages pre- 
vail, in connection with other interests ; and the time is come 
when we must refer to one of them. In a word, Dr. McBraiu 
und Mrs. Updjke were about to be united in the bands of matri- 
nionj. As yet we have said very little of the intended bride ; 
but the incidents of our tale render it now necessary to bring her 
more prominently on the stage, and to give some account of hei- 
Belf and family. 

Anna Wade was the only child of very respectfible and some- 
what affluent parents. At nineteen she married a lawyer of suit- 
able years, and became Mrs. Updyke. This union lasted but 
eight years, when the wife was left a widow with two children ; 
a son and a daughter. In the course of time these children grew 
up, the mother devoting herself to their care, education and well- 
being. In all this there was nothing remarkable, widowed mo- 
thers doing as much daily, with a self-devotion that allies them 
to the angels. Frank Updyke, the son, had finished his educar 



THE WAYS OF THE II O U K. I b5 

tion, and was daily expected to arrive from a tour of three years 
in Europe. Anna, her mother's namesake, was at the sweet age 
of nineteen, and the very counterpart of what the elder Anna 
had been at the same period in life. The intended bride was fiir 
from being unattractive, though fully five-and-forty. In the eyes 
of Dr. McBrain, she was even charming ; although she did not 
exactly answer those celebrated conditions of female influence 
that have been handed down to us in the familiar toast of a 
voluptuous English prince. Though forty, Mrs. Updyke was 
neither 'fat' nor 'fair/ being a brunette of a well-preserved and 
still agreeable person. 

It was perhaps a little singular, after having escaped the 
temptations of a widowhood of twenty years, that this lady should 
think of marrying at a time of life when most females abandon 
the expectation of changing their condition. But Mrs. Updyke 
was a person of a very warm heart ; and she foresaw the day 
when she was to be left alone in the world. Her son was much 
inclined to be a rover ; and, in his letters, he talked of still longer 
journeys, and of more protracted absences from home. He in- 
herited an independency from his father, and had now been hLs 
own master for several years. Anna was much courted by tho 
circle to which she belonged ; and young, affluent, pretty to the 
very verge of beauty, gentle, quiet, and singularly warm-hearted, 
it was scarcely within the bounds of possibility that she could 
escape an early marriage in a state of society like that of Man- 
hattan. These were the reasons Mrs. Updyke gave to her female 
confidants, when she deemed it well to explain the motives of her 
present purpose. Without intending to deceive, there was not a 
word of truth in these explanations. In point of fact, Mrs. Up- 
dyke, well as she had loved the husband of her youth, preserved 
Jes beaux restes of a very warm and affectionate heart; and 
McBra'n, a well-preserved, good-looking man, aoout a dozen years 
older than herself, had found the means to awaken its sympathies 



iCG T 11 E W A Y S O F THE II O U K. 

to sucb a degree, as once more to place the comelj widow com- 
pletely within the category of Cupid. It is very possible for a 
woman of forty to love, and to love with all her heart; though 
the world seldom takes as much interest in her weaknesses, if 
weakness it is, as in those of younger and fairer subjects of the 
passion. To own the truth, Mrs. Updyke was profoundly in love, 
while her betrothed met her inclination with an answering sym- 
pathy that, to say the least, was fully equal to any tender senti* 
ment he had succeeded in awakening. 

All this was to Tom Dunscomb what he called "nuts.'^ Three 
times had he seen his old friend in this pleasant state of feeling, 
and three times was he chosen to be an attendant at the altar; 
once in the recognised character of a groomsman, and on the 
other two occasions in that of a chosen friend. Whether the 
lawyer had himself completely escaped the darts of the little 
god, no one could say, so completely had he succeeded in veiling 
this portion of his life from observation ; but, whether he had or 
not, he made those who did submit to the passion the theme cf 
his untiring merriment. 

Children usually regard these tardy inclinations of their parents 
with surprise, if not with downright distaste. Some little sur- 
prise the pretty Anna Updyke may have felt, when she was told 
by a venerable great-aunt that her mother was about to be mar- 
ried ; but of distaste there was none. She had a strong regai'd 
for her new step-father, that was to be ; and thought it the most 
natural thing in the world to love. Sooth to say, Anna Updyke 
had not been out two year's — the American girls are brought out 
BO young ! — without having sundry suitors. i>Ianhattan is the 
easiest place in the world for a pretty girl, with a good fortune, 
to get offers. Pretty girls with good fortunes are usually in 
request everywhere ; but it requires the precise state of society 
that exists in the "Great Commercial Emporium,'' to give a 
young wojnan i\\Q. highest chance in the old lottery. Theie 



THE WAYS OF T II E II O U R. 107 

where one-half of the world came from other worlds some half n 
dozen years since ; where a good old Manhattan name is regarded 
as upstart among a crowd that scarcely knows whence it was itself 
derived, and whither it is destined, and where few have any real 
position in society, and fewer still know what the trae meaning 
of the term is, money and beauty are the constant objects of 
pursuit. Anna Updyke formed no exception. She had declined, 
in the gentlest manner possible, no less than six direct offers, 
coming from those who were determined to lose nothing by diffi- 
dence ; had thrown cold water on more than twice that number 
of little flames that were just beginning to burn ; and had thrown 
into the fire some fifteen or sixteen anonymous effusions, in prose 
and verse, that came from adventurers who could admire from a 
distance, at the opera and in the streets, but who had no present 
means of getting any nearer than these indirect attempts at com- 
munication. AVe say " thrown into the fii-e/' for Anna was too 
prudent, and had too much self-respect, to retain such documents, 
comii/g, as they did, from so many "Little Unknowns.'' The 
anonymous effusions were consequently burnt — with one excep- 
tion. The exception was in the case of a sonnet, in which her 
hair — and very beautiful it is — was the theme. From some of 
the little free-masonry of the intercourse of the sexes, Anna 
fancied these lines had been written by Jack Wilmeter, one of 
the most constant of her visiters, as well as one of her admitted 
favourites. Between Jack and Anna there had been divers 
passages of gallantry, which had been very kindly viewed by 
McBrain and the mother. The parties themselves did not under- 
stand their own feelings; for matters had not gone far, when 
Mary Monson so strangely appeared on the stage, and drew Jack 
off, on the trail of wonder and mystery, if not on that of reul 
passion. As Sarah Wilmeter was the most intimate friend of 
Anna Updyke, it is not extraordinary that this singular fancy of 
the broth?r's should be the subject of conversation between tlu. 



108 T II E WAYS O F T II K II O U U, 

two young women, eacli of wliom probably felt more interest Id 
his movements tluiii any other persons on earth. The dialo^ijue 
we are about to relate took place in Anna's own room, the morn- 
ing of the day which preceded that of the wedding, and followcul 
naturally enough, as the sequence of eertain remarks which had 
been made on the approaching event. 

"If 7rt?/ mother were living, and must be married," said Sarah 
Wilmeter, " I should be very well content to have such a man ay 
Dr. ]Mcl>raiii for a step-father. I have known him all my lifcj 
and he is, and ever has been, so intimate with uncle Tom, that 1 
almost think him a neai- relation." 

"And I have known him as long as I can remember," Anna 
steadily rejoined, " and have not only a great respect, but a warm 
regard for him. Should I ever marry myself, I do not believe 1 
shall have one-half the atlachment for my father-in-law as I am 
Bure I shall feel for my step-father." 

" How do you know there v/ill be any father-in-law in the 
case ? I am sure John has no parent.*' 

" John !" returned Anna, faintly — " What is John to me ?" 

" Thank you, my dear — he is something, at least, to me." 

" To be sure — a brother naturally is — but Jack is no brother 
of mine, you will please to remember." 

Sarah cast a quick, inquiring look at her friend ; but the eyes 
of Anna were thrown downward on the carpet, while the bloom 
on her cheek spread to her temples. Her friend saw that, in 
truth, Jack was no brother of Acts. 

" What I mean is this" — continued Sarah, following a thread 
that ran through her own mind, rather than anything that had 
been already cxi)resscd — " Jack is making himself a very silly 
fellow just now." 

Anna now raised her eyes ; her lip quivcivd a little, and the 
bloom deserted even her cheek. Still, she made no reply. Wo- 
men can listen acutely at such moments ; but it commonly exceeds 



T U E W A Y S O F T IF K II O UK. 1 C9 

their powers to speak. The friends understood each other, aa 
Sarali well knew, and she continued her remarks precisely as if 
the other had answered them. 

" Michael Millington brings strange accounts of Jack's beh;ir 
viour at Bibcrry ! He says that lie seems to do nothing, think 
of nothing, talk of nothing, but of the hardship of this Mary 
Monson's case." 

" I 'm sure it is cruel enough to awdcen the pity of a rock," 
said Anna Updyke, in a low tone ; ^' a woman, and she a lady, 
accused of sucli terrible crimes — murder and arson !" 

"What is arson, child? — and how do you know anything 
about it?'' 

Again Anna coloured, her feelings being all sensitiveness on 
this subject ; which had caused her far more pain than she had 
experienced from any other event in her brief life. It was, how- 
ever, necessary to answer. 

"Arson is setting fire to an inhabited house," she said, after a 
moment's reflection ; " and I know it from having been told its 
signification by Mr. Dunscomb.'' 

" Did uncle Tom say anything of this Mary Monson, and of 
Jack's singular behaviour?" 

" lie spoke of his client as a very extraordinary person, and 
of hi r accomplishments, and readiness, and beauty. Altogether^ 
he does not seem to know what to make of her." 

" And what did he say about Jack ? — You need have no re- 
BLTve with me, Anna; I am his sister." 

"I know that ver^ well, dear Sarah — but Jack's name waa 
not mentioned, I believe — certainly not at the particular time, 
and in the conversation to which I now refer." 

" But at some olher time, my dear, and in some olher conver- 
jiation." 

" He did once say something about your brother's being very 
attentive to the interests of the person he calls his Duke's county 

8 



170 T II K WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

3licut — nothing more, I do assure you. It is the duty of youne 
lawyers to be very attentive to the interests of their clients, 1 
should think." 

" Assuredly — and that most especially when the client is a 
young lady with a pocket full of money. ]>ut Jack is above 
want, and can afford to act right at all times and on all occasions. 
I wish he had never seen this strange creature." 

Anna IJpdyke sat silent for some little time, playing with the 
hem of her pocket-handkerchief. Then she said timidly, speak- 
ing as if she wished an answer, even while she dreaded it — 

" Does not Marie Moulin know something about her?" 

" A great deal, if she would only tell it. Eut Marie, too, has 
gone over to the enemy, since she has seen this siren. Not a 
word can I get out of her, though I have written three letters, 
beyond the fact that she knows MademoiscUc, and that she can« 
not believe her guilty." 

" The last, surely, is very important. If really innocent, how 
hard has been the treatment she has received ! It is not sur- 
prising that your brother feels so deep an interest in her. lie is 
very warm-hearted and generous, Sarah ; and it is just like him 
to devote his time and talents to the service of the oppressed." 

It was Sarah's turn to be silent and thoughtfid. She made no 
answer, for she well understood that an impulse very dif jreut 
from that mentioned by her friend M'as, just then, influencing her 
brother's conduct. 

A¥e have related this conversation as the briefest mode of 
making the reader acquainted with the iith. state of things in 
and rtbout the neat dwelling of Mrs. Updyke in Eighth-street. 
IMuch, however, remains to be told ; as the morning of the very 
day which succeeded that on which the foregoing dialogue was 
held, was the one named for the wedding of the mistress of the 
house. 

At the very early hour of six, the party met at the ohunni 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. ] 7 1 

door, one of the most gotliic structures in tlie new quarter of the 
town; and five minutes sufficed to make the two one. Anna 
sobbed as she saw her mother passing away from her, as it then 
appeared to her; and the bride herself was a little overcome. 
As for McBrain, as his friend Dunscomb expressed it, in a de 
Bcription given to a brother bachelor, wno met him at dinner — 

" He stood fire like a veteran ! You 're not going to frighten 
a fellow who has held forth the ring three times. You will re- 
member that Ned has previously killed two wives, besides all the 
other folk he has slain ; and I make no doubt the fellow's confi- 
dence was a good deal increased by the knowledge he possesses 
that none of us are immortal — as husbands and wives, at least." 

But Tom Dunscomb's pleasantries had no influence on hip 
friend's happiness. Odd as it may appear to some, this connec- 
tion was one of a warm and very sincere attachment. Neithei 
of the parties had reached the period of life when nature begins 
to yield to the pressure of time ; and there was the reasonable 
prospect before them of their contributing largely to each other' jii 
future happiness. The bride was dressed with great simplicity, 
but with a proper care; and she really justified the passion that 
McBrain insisted, in his conversations with Dunscomb, that he 
felt for her. Youthful, for her time of life, modest in demeanour 
and aspect, still attractive in person, the ' Widow Updyke' became 
Mrs. McBrain, with as charming an air of womanly feeling as 
might have been exhibited by one of less than half her age. 
Covered with blushes, she was handed by the bridegroom into 
his own carriage, which stood at the church-door, and the twt 
proceeded to Timbully. 

As for Anna Updyke, she went to pass a week in the country 
with Sarah Dunscomb; even a daughter being a little de trop, 
in a honey-moon. Rattletrap was the singular name Tom Duns- 
bomb had given to his country-house. It was a small villa -liko 
residence, on the banks of the Hudson, and within the island of 



1 V-! T 11 K W A V S O F T II K II i) V K. 

Manliaikin. (loncealod in a wood, it was a famous place for a 
bavhelor to hide Lis oddities in. Here Dunscoiiib coueeutrated 
all his out-of-the-way purehases, including ploughs that were never 
usihI, all sorts of larmiiig ulcnsils that wore (.'ondcinuod to the 
sauu' idleness, and siu'h contrivances in the arts of lishing and 
Bhooting as struck his fancy; though tlie lawyer never handled a 
rod or levelled a fowling-piece. ]>ut Tom Dunscomb, though be 
pn)fi;ssed to despise love, had fancies of his own. It gave him a 
certain degree of pleasure to seem to have these several tiistes; 
and ho threw away a good deal of nu^ioy in purchasing these 
characteristic (n-nanients for Kattletraj). AVhen Jack Wilmeter 
ventured, one day, to ask his uncle what pleasure he could find 
in collecting so many costly and j)erfectly useless articles, imple- 
ments that had not the smallest apparent connection with his 
ordinary pursuits and profession, he got the following answer : — 

'' You are Avrong, Jaek, in supposing that these traps are use, 
less. A lawyer has oeeasion for a vast deal of knowleilge that 
he will n(>ver get out of his books. One should have the elements 
of all tho sciences, and of most of the arts, in his mind, to make 
a thoroughly good advocate; for theii" application will become 
necessary on a thousand occasions, when Blaekstone and Kent 
can be of no service. No, no; I prize my professions highly, 
and look upi>n llattletrap as my Inn of Court." 

Jack Wilmeter had come over from liibcrry to attend the 
wedding, and had now accompanied the ])arty into the country, 
us it was called ; though the place of Dunscomb was so near 
ti>wn that it was not difficult, when the wind was at the south- 
wanl, to hear the iire-bell on the City Ilall. The meeting be- 
tween John Wilmeter :md Anna Updyke had been fortunately a 
little relieved by the peculiar circumstances in which the latter 
was placed. The feeling she betj-ayed, the pallor of hor check, 
and the nervousness of her deportment, might all, naturallv 
enough, be imputed to the emotions of a daughter, who saw her 



TUB WAYS OF THE HOUR. 173 

own mother standing at the altar, by the side of one who was 
not her natural father. Let this be as it might, Anna liad the 
advantage of the inferences which tliose around her made on 
these facts. The young people met first in the churcli, where 
tiicre was no opportunity for any exchange of language or looks. 
Sarah took her friend away with her alone, on the road to llattle- 
trap, inmiediately after the ceremony, in order to allow Anna's 
spirits and manner to become composed, without being subjected 
to unpleasant observation. Dunscomb and his nephew drove out 
in a light vehicle of the latter's; and Michael Millington ap- 
peared later at the villa, bringing with him to dinner, Timms, 
who came on business connected with the approaching trial. 

There never had been any love-making, in the direct uicaning 
of the term, between John Wilmeter and Anna Updyke. Th(;y 
had known each other so long and so intimately, that both re- 
garded the feeling of kindness that each knew subsisted, as a 
mere fraternal sort of affection. "Jack is Sarah's brother," 
thought Anna, when she permitted herself to reason on the 
subject at all ; " and it is natural that I should have more friend- 
ship for him than for any other young man." " Anna is Sarah's 
most intimate friend/' thought Jack, " and that is the long and 
short of my attachment fur her. Take away Sarah, and Anna 
would be nothing to me; though she is so pretty^ and clever, 
and gentle, and lady-like. I must like those Anna likes, or it 
might make us both unhappy.'' This was the reasoning of 
nineteen, and when Anna Updyke was just budding into young 
womanhood; at a later day, habit had got to be so much in the 
ascendant, that neither of the young people thought much on thu 
subject at all. The preference was strong in each — so strong, 
indeed, as to hover over the confines of passion, and quite near 
to its vortex; though the long accustomed feeling prevented 
either from entering into its analysis. The attachments that 
grow up with our daily associations^ and get to be so interwoven 



1 V4 T n E WAYS O F T Jl E II O U R. 

with our most familiar tliouglits, seldom carry away those wlio 
submit to them, iu the whirlwind of passion; which are much 
more apt to attend sudden and impulsive love. Cases do cer- 
tainly occur in which the parties liavc long known each other, 
ami have lived on for years in a dull appreciation of nmtual 
merit — sometimes with prejudices and alienation active between 
them; when suddenly all is changed, and the scene that was 
lately so tranquil and tame becomes tumultuous and glowing, 
and life assumes a new charm, as the profound emotions of pas- 
sion chase away its dulness; substituting hope, and fears, and 
lively wishes, and soul-felt imj-yressions in its stead. This is not 
usual in the course of the most wayward of all our impulses ; 
but it does occasionally happen, brightening existence with a 
glow that might well bo termed divine, were the colours bestowed 
dcM-ived from a love of the Creator, in lieu of that of one of his 
creatures. In these sudden awakenings of dormant feelings, 
some chord of mutual sympathy, some deep-rooted affinity is 
aroused, ciirrying away their possessors in a torrent of the feel- 
ings. Occasionally, wherever the affinity is active, the impulse 
natural and strongly sympathetic, these sudden and seemingly 
wayward att^ichmcnts are the nu)st indelible, colouring the whole 
of the remainder of life ; but oftener do they take the character 
of mere impulse, rather than that of deeper sentiment, and dis- 
a})pear, as they were iirst seen, in some sudden glow of the 
h«n-izon of the affi3ctions. 

In this brief analysis of some of the workings of the heart, 
we may find a clue to the actual frame of mind in which John 
Wihneter returned from IJiberry, where he had noAV been, like a 
sentinel on i)ost, for several weeks, in vigilant watehl'ulness over 
the interests of M;u-y Monson. During all that time, however, 
he had not once been admitted within the legal limits of the 
prison; holding his brief, but rather numerous conferences with 
his client, at the little grate in tlie massive door that separated 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. Wo 

lb J guol from the dwelling of the Bhcriff. Kind-hearted Mrs. 
Gott would have admitted him to the gallery, whenever he chose 
to ask that favour ; hut this act of courtesy had hcen forbidden 
by Mary Monson herself. Timras she did receive, and she con- 
ferred with him in private on more than one occasion, manifesting 
great earnestness in the consultations that preceded the approach- 
ing trial. But John Wilmetcr she would receive only at the 
grate, like a nun in a well-regulated convent. Even this coyness 
contributed to feed the fire that had been so suddenly lighted in 
the young man's heart, on which the strangeness of the prisoner's 
situation, her personal attractions, her manners, and all the other 
known peculiarities of person, history, education and deportment, 
had united to produce a most lively impression, however fleeting 
it was to prove in the end. 

Had there been any direct communications on the sulyect of 
the attachment that had so long, so slowly, but so surely been 
taking root in the hearts of John and Anna, any reciprocity in 
open confidence, this unlooked-for impulse in a new direction 
could not have overtaken the young man. He did not know how 
profound was the interest that Anna took in him ; nor, for that 
matter, was she aware of it herself, until Michael Millington 
brought the unpleasant tidings of the manner in wliich liis fi-Iend 
seemed to be entranced with his uncle's client at 13ibcrry. Then, 
indeed, Anna was made to feel that surest attendant of the live- 
liest love, a pang of jealousy ; and, for the first time in her young 
and innocent life, she became aware of the real nature of her 
sentiments in behalf of John Wilmeter. On the other hand, 
drawn aside from the ordinary course of his affections by sudden, 
impulsive, and exciting novelties, John was fast submitting to 
the influence of the charms of the fair stranger, as has been more 
than once intimated in our opening pages, as the newly-fallen 
snow melts under the rays of a noon-day sun. 

Such, then, was the stato of matters in this little circle, when 



1 7G t II e \v a y s o f t ]i e ii o u h. 

the wedding took place, and John Wilmeter joined the family- 
party. Although Dunscomb did all he could to make the dinner 
gay, llattlctrap had seldom entertained a more silent company 
than that which sat down at its little round table on this occasion. 
John thought of Biberry and Mary Monson ; Sarah's imaginji- 
tion was quite busy in wondering why Michael Millington stayed 
away so long ; and Anna was on the point of bursting into tears 
half-a-dozen times, under the depression produced by the joint 
events of her mother's marriage, and John Wilmeter's obvious 
change of deportment towards her. 

" What the deuce has kept Michael Millington and that fellow 
Timms, from joining us at dinner," said the master of the house, 
as the fiTiit was placed upon the table ; and, closing one eye, ho 
looked with the other through the ruby rays of a glass of well- 
cooled Madeira — his favourite wine. "Both promised to be 
punctual ; yet here are they both sadly out of time. They knew 
the dinner was to come off at four.'' 

" As is one, sir, so are both," answered John. " You will 
remember they were to come together?" 

"True — and Millington is rather a punctual man — especially 
in visiting at Rattletrap" — here Sarah blushed a little; but the 
engagement in her case being announced, there was no occasion 
for any particular confusion. " We shall have to take Michael with 
us into Duke's next week, Miss Wilmeter; the case being too 
grave to neglect bringing up all our forces." 

"Is Jack, too, to take a part in the trial, uncle Tom ?" de- 
manded the niece, with a little interest in the answer. 

" Jack, too — everybody, in short. When the life of a fine 
young woman is concerned, it behooves her counsel to be active 
and diligent. I have never before had a cause into which niy 
feelings have so completely entered — no, never." 

" Do not counsel always enter, heart and hand, into their clients' 
interests, and make themselves, as it might be, as you gentlemcL 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 177 

of the bar sometimes term these things, a ^ part and parcel' of 
their concerns ?" 

This question was put by Sarah, but it caused Anna to raise 
lier eyes from the fruit she was pretending to eat, and to listen 
intently to the reply. Perhaps she fancied that the answer might 
explain the absorbed manner in which John had engaged in the 
service of the accused. 

" As far from it as possible, in many cases," returned the uncle ; 
" though there certainly are others in which one engages with all 
his feelings. But every day lessens my interest in the law, and 
all that belongs to if 

" Why should that be so, sir ? — I have heard you called a de- 
votee of the profession." 

" That 's because I have no wife. Let a man live a bachelor, 
and ten to one he gets some nickname or other. On the other 
hand, let him marry two or three times, like Ned McBrain — beg 
your pardon, Nanny, for speaking disrespectfully of your papa — • 
but let a fellow just get his third wife, and they tack ' family' to 
his appellation at once. He 's an excellent family lawyer, or a 
capital /ami ?2/ physician, or a supremely pious — no, I don't know 
that they 've got so far as the parsons, for they are all family 
fellows." 

" You have a spite against matrimony, uncle Tom." 

" Well, if I have, it stops with me, as a family complaint. 
You are free from it, my dear ; and I 'm half inclined to think 
Jack will marry before he is a year older. But, here are the 
tardies at last." 

Although the uncle made no allusion to the person his nephew 
was to marry, everybody but himself thought of Mary Monson 
%t once. Anna turned pale as death ; Sarah looked thoughtful, 
and even sad ; and John became as red as scarlet. But the en- 
trance of Michael Millington and Timms caused the conversation 
to turn on another subject, as a matter of course. 



17s T 11 K W A V 8 () F 



II K HOUR. 



^MVo exported you to dinner, gontlcmcn/' PunscoTul) dril^ 
icMnnrkod, as lie pushed the bottle to his guests. 

"JJusiuess before eating is my maxim, 'Squire Puiiseomb/' 
Tinims n>pliod. ^' JMr. IMillington and I have been very busy in 
the olliee, iVoni the moment Dr. Mcl>rain and his lady " 

" AVife— say ' wife,' Timms, if you please. Or, ' 3hs. jMelJrain; 
if you like (liat better." 

'* Well, sir, I used the word I did, out of compliment to the 
other ladies present. They love to be honoured and signalized 
in our language, when we speak of them, sir, I believe." 

" Toll ! poll ! Tinims; take my adviee, and let all these small 
matters alone. It takes a life to master them, and one nuist be- 
gin from the cradle. AVhen all is ended, they are scarce worth 
tlie (rouble they give. Speak good, plain, direct, and manly 
Knglish, I have always told you, and you '11 get along well 
enough ; but make no attempts to be line. * Dr. McBraiu and 
hulyj' is next thing * to going through irurlgate,' or meeting a 
'lady frieutl.' You'll never get the right sort of a wife, until 
vou drop all such absurdities." 

" I '11 tell you how it is, 'Squire : so far as law goes, or even 
morals, and I don't know but I n»ay say general government 
politics, T look upon you as the best adviser I can consult. Init, 
when it comes to matrimony, I can't see how you should know 
anv more about it than I do myself, I do intend to get UKUTied 
one oi' these davs, which is more, 1 fancy, than you ever had in 
view." 

"No; my great ctHieeru has been to escape matrimony; but a 
man may get a very tolerable notion o( the sex while mananivring 
.among them, with that intention. I am not certain that he who 
has had two or three handsomely managed escapes, doesn't learn 
us much as he who has had two or three wives — 1 mean of 
useful information. What do you think v^f all this, ^Milling 
ton?" 



T II K W A V H OK T II I<; II () H I!. l7l) 

''That 1 wi.sli lor no escapes, \vli(;ii my clioicc has bocu IVco 
und rortiinato." 

"And you, Jack?" 

"8ir!" niisworcd llio noplicw, .sluirl.iiin;, as if .-u-oiiscd IVoiii a 
brown ti(u(ly. " J)id you speak to nic, undo I'oinr"' 

" i/c '11 not \h) of inucli us(^ to um next \v(M^k, 'I'inims," ,M:i,id 
tlio counsellor, coolly, lilling his own and his nei^lihonr's ^l.-iss 
us h(^ sitoke, with iced Madeira — "These capital cases (leni.ind 
the utmost vi«^il;i,nce; more esi)e('ially when ])opiil;ir jircjiidicc; 
sets in agriinst them." 

"Should the jury find JMary JMonson to he .i;'nil(y, wli;it would 
be the scntenco of the courts demanded S;ir;ili, smiling, ev(!n 
while sho BecnuMl much interested — "I ]>eliev(i ih;it is ri^dit, 
Mike — the court ^Hcntenccs,' and the jury ^(U)iivi(-(s.' Jf there 
bo any mistake, you must .-iiiswcu- for ii." 

"lam afraid to speak of laws, or constitutions, in tlu^ pr(\senco 
of your uncle, since the rebuke Jack and I ;L^ot in that .-dfiir of 
the toast," returned Sarah's bctrotluid, an-hing his ey<!-brows. 

" l>y the Av;iy, .lack, did that dinner over come oiri'" dem;uide(l 
the uncle,, suddenly; " 1 looked for your toasts in the journ.ds, 
but do not remember ev(!r to havo seen tluiin." 

"You (!oiild not liav<i S(hmi ;i,ny of miiu^, sir; for I went to 
IJiberry that very morning, a,nd only left th(!re last (^v(Miing" — 
Anna's countenance! res(!ml)led a lily, just as it begins to drooj) — 
" 1. believ(!, howcwer, the whole; alfair fell through, as no om; seeniS 
to know, just now, who are and who are not the friends of liberty. 
It is (he p(Miph» to-day; the pope next day; some prince to-mor- 
row; and, by tlu; end of the week, wo iriay have a Massanieillo 
or a llobes[)icrr(! uppermost. TIk; times ^rr.m s:idly out of join!, 
just now, ;ui(l the world is fast gcitting to ]h) nj)si(Ie-(lown." 

"It's all owing to this iid'ernal Code, Timms, which is (Mioiigli 
to r(;volutioni/,e liiiman nature itself!" cried Dunscond), wilh an 
nniniMlion lliat produccMl a laugh in the young f(»lk, (Anno ex- 



1 80 THE WAYS OF T 11 E HOUR. 

ccpted,) and a simper in the person addressed. " Ever since this 
thing lias come into operation among us, I never know when a 
case is to be heard, the decision had, or the principles that arc 
to come uppermost. AVcll, wc must try and get some good out 
of it, if we can, in this capital case.^' 

" Which is drawing very near, 'Squire; and I have some facts 
to communicate in that affair which it may be well to compare 
with the Lxw, without much more delay." 

"Let us finish this bottle — if the boys help us, it will not be 
much more than a glass apiece.'' 

"I don't think the 'Squire will ever be up//cZcZ at the polls by 
the Temperance people," said Timms, filling his glass to the brim ; 
for, to own the truth, it was seldom that he got such wine. 

" As you are expecting to be held up by them, my fine fellow. 
I 'vc heard of your management, master Timms, and am told 
you aspire as high as the State Senate. Well ; there is room for 
better, but much worse men have been sent there. Now, let xm 
go to -what I call the * Rattletrap offioe.' '^ 



THE WAYS OF T H iC HOUR. 131 



CHAPTER XL 

" The strawberry grows underneath the nettle ; 
And wholesome berries thrive and ripen best, 
Neighbour'd by fruit of baser quality." 

King Henry V. 

There stood a very pretty pavilion in one of the groves of 
Rattletrap, overhanging the water, with the rock of the river-shore 
for its foundation. It had two small apartments, in one of which 
Dunscomb had caused a book-case, a table, a rocking-chair and a 
lounge to be placed. The other was furnished more like an ordi- 
nary summer-house, and was at all times accessible to the inmates 
of the family. The sanctum, or ofl5cc, was kept locked; and 
here its owner often brought his papers, and passed whole days, 
during the warm months, when it is the usage to be out of town, 
in preparing his cases. To this spot, then, the counsellor now 
held his way, attended by Timms, having ordered a servant to 
bring a light and some segars ; smoking being one of the regular 
occupations of the office. In a few minutes, each of the two men 
of the law had a segar in his mouth, and was seated at a little 
window that commanded a fine view of the Hudson, its fleet of 
sloops, steamers, tow-boats and colliers, and its high, rocky 
western shore, which has obtained the not inappropriate name of 
the Palisades. 

The segars, the glass, and the pleasant scenery, teeming as was 
the last with movement and life, appeared, for the moment, to 
Irive from the minds of the two men of the law the business on 



iS2 THE WAY 6 OF THE HOUR. 

which they had met. It was a proof of the effect of habit that 
a person like Duiiscomb, who was really a good man, and one 
who loved his fellow-creatures, could just then forget that a 
human life was, in some measure, dependent on the decisions of 
this very interview, and permit his thoughts to wander from so 
important an interest. So it was, however ; and the first topic 
that tu-osc in this consultation had no reference whatever to IMary 
IMonson or her approaching trial, though it soon led the collo- 
quists round to her situation, as it might be without their intend- 
ing it. 

"This is a charming retreat, 'Squire Dunscomb,'' commenced 
Timms, settling himself with some method in a very commodious 
arm-chair ; " and one that I should often frequent, did I own it." 

" I hope you will live to be master of one quite as pleasant, 
Timms, some time or other. They tell me your practice, now, is 
one of the best in Duke's; some two or three thousand a year, I 
dare say, if the truth were known." 

"It's as good as anybody's on our circuit, unless you count 
the bigwigs from York. I won't name the sum, even to as old 
a friend as yourself, 'Squire; for the man who lets the world 
peep into his purse, will soon find it footing him up, like a sum 
in arithmetic. You 've gentlemen in town, however, who some- 
times get more for a single case, than I can 'arn in a twelve- 
month." 

" Still, considering your beginning, and late appearance at the 
bar, Timms, you are doing pretty well. Do you lead in many 
trials at the circuit?" 

"That depends pretty much on age, you know, 'Squire. 
Gen' rally older lawyers are put into all my causes ; but I have 
carried one or two through, on my own shoulders, and that by 
main strength too." . 

" It must have been by your facts, rather than by your law. 
The verdicts turned altogether on testimony, did they not ?" 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 1 83 

" Pretty much — and tkal 's the sort of case / like. A mun 
can prepare his evidence beforehand, and make some calcuhitiou.'i 
where it will land him ; but, as for the law, I do not see that 
Btudying it as hard as I will, makes me much the wiser. A CJise 
is no sooner- settled one way, by a judge in New York, than it is 
Bcttled in another, in Pennsylvany or Virginny." 

" And that, too, when courts were identical, and had a charac- 
ter ! Now, we have eight Supreme Courts, and they are begin- 
ning to settle the law in eight different ways. Have you studied 
the Code pretty closely, Timms?'' 

" Not I, sir. They tell me things will come round under it in 
time, and I try to be patient. There 's one thing about it that I 
do like. It has taken all the Latin out of the law, which is a 
great help to us poor scholars." 

" It has that advantage, I confess ; and before it is done, it 
will take all the law out of the Latin. They tell me it was pro- 
posed to call the old process of ^ne exeal' a writ of ^no go.' " 

'" Well, to my mind, the last would be the best term of the 
two.'' 

"Ay, to your mind, it might, Timms. Plow do you like 
rhe fee-bills, and the new mode of obtaining your compensa- 
tion?" 

*' Capital ! The more they change them matters, the deeper 
we '11 dig into 'em, 'Squire! I never knew reform help the great 
body of the community — all it favours is individdles." 

" There is more truth in that, Timms, than you are probably 
aware of yourself. Reform, fully half the time, does no more 
than shift the pack-saddle from one set of shoulders to another. 
Nor do I believe much is gained by endeavouring to make law 
cheap. It were better for the community that it should be dear ; 
though cases do occur in which its charges might amount to a 
denial of justice. It is to be regretted that the world oftener 
decides under the influence of exceptions, rather than under that 



1 '-^ f T II K AV A V S O V r 11 1'] H () V U. 

of llio rulo. l>('sid(\<, it is no easy inatltM- io ilunk llio gains of 
a thousand or two of lumgry uttornoys." 

**Thoro you'iv right, 't^(|niro, if you ncvor hit (l\o nail on i\ie 
lu\-i(l bi^loiv ! r>ut llie now si'honio is working wi>ll lor us, and, 
in (>no sonso, it may work woU for fho jun^plo. 'JMio coinponsatiou 
is Iho lirst ihiug llionght of now ; ami when that is tho caso, the 
iTuMit slops to think. It isn't ovory person (liat hiUils as hirgr 
ami as ojhmi a ]>urso as our lady at ]>iborry !"' 

" Ay, she oontinuos to fee you, does sho, Tinuns? Tray, how 
niui'h has she given you altogether ?" 

'* Not enough io build a new wing io the Astin' liibrary, nor 
to set up a. pars(>n in a gothie temple ; still, enough to en.gago 
me, lu'art ami hand, in her serviee. First and last, my reeeipt^ii 
liave Iven a tluMisaml dollars, besides money for the outlays." 

" Whieh have amonntinl io " 

" jMore than as mueh more. This is ;i matter of life and 
death, you know, sir; and prices rise aecordingly. All I have 
riH'i^ived has been handed io me either in gold or in good euritMifc 
paper. The lirst troubled nie a good deal ; for 1 was not eertain 
some more ]>iiHH^s might uot bo ivooguized, though thoy were all 
eagles and half-eaglos." 

" Has any sueh reeognitiim oeeurred T' demanded Oiuiseomb, 
with interest. 

" To be frank with vou, 'lS(\uiie Punseomb, I sent the nuniey 
io town at onee, and set it afloat in the great current in AVall 
Street, where it eould do neither good nor harm on the trial. It 
would have been very green in me to pay out the precise coin 
among the people of Puke's. No one could s;iy what might 
have been the eonsetpienees." 

" It is not very easy for me to foretell the consequences of the 
substitutes which, it seems, you did use. A fee to a counsel 1 
can \inderstand ; but what the deuce you have done, k^gally, 
with w thousand dollars out-of-doors, exceeds my penetration 



'1' II K VV A Y H () K T II K II O II lU I S,*, 

I truHt you Ikivc nol- bceni .•lilciiipMii^ to j)iir(;lias() jiinn-H, 
riinniM?" 

" N(»l. I, sir I know llu; jx'iKillicM loo vvcH, to vcMilun; on Hnr]\ 
a (1( Hiiicci. IJosidoH, it is too soon to Mitciiijit t!i;i,t jriinic. »liirorH 
m;iy Ix; ])ou<5lit; Honictiinns arc l)on;^lit, T lijiv(; \\r,:\vd say" — \u'n) 
'riiiiins S(5r('W(;(I iij) liis fiicf^ into n, most si'niKiftMiit niiniicry of 
flis!ippro]).'ition — " Init / liav(; <loii(! notlilii;?; of IIm; sort in IIh, 
' Stalo r.s". Mary Monson.' It is too soon to ojxiratc, i'vcn should 
tlu! icstiinony drive- us to that, in the; lon^ run." 

"I forbid all illc^^al jncasurcs, 'I'iinnis. You know my rui(! of 
trying oans(!S is never to overstiij) tlie limits of (lie law.'' 

" YcH, Hir; 1 understand your princjipl*;, whieli will juiswct, 
pr<)vid(!d both sidcjs ntick to it. ]5ut, let a man act as close to 
what iH called honeflty as lie please, what e(;rtainty has lio that 
liis adv(;rsary will ol)serv(! tli(! sanu; lailc'i!' Tliis is tin; f^rc/.d 
dillieulty I find in ;^(!tting alon;^ in tin! world, 'Squire; opposition 
ups(!ts all a man's h(!st intentions. Now, in politics, sir, tli(;ru ia 
no mail in tli(! countiy better dispostid to u])hold resp(!(;tabl(; can- 
didates and just priiujiples than 1 am myself; but the other Hi<Io 
H(iu(;eze us up so tight, that before tho election comeH ofT, I 'm 
ready to vote for the d(;vil, rather than get tho worst of it." 

"Ay, tliat'.s tlu; wie-k(;d man's excuse all over the world, 
1'imms. in voting for the genthnnan you have just iiKiiitioried, 
you will remem))er you are sustaining the enemy of your race, 
whatever may be his particular relation to his i)arty. But in this 
affair at iiiberry, you will pl(!as(; to rem(;mber it is not an elec- 
tion, nor is the devil a candidate. What success have you ha<l 
with tho testimony?" 

''There's an abstract of it, sir; and a prcitty m(!ss it is! So 
far us 1 can see, wo shail have to rest entinsly on the witn(!sse:« 
of the State; for I can get nothing out of the accused." 

" I)o(!S she still insist on her silence, in respect of tins past'/'' 

''As close- as if she had be(!n born dumb. I have told her it 



1 8G THE W A V S O V T II K II O U K. 

(lio strongest langiuigo that ber life depends on her appearing be 
fore tbe jury with a plain tale and a good ebaracter; but she will 
help me to neither. I never had such a client before — " 

^^ OpiMi-lKuuled, you mean, I suppose, Tininis ?" 

'vln (hat partic'lar, 'Squire Dunsconib, she is just what tho 
profession likes — liberal, and pays down. Of course, I am so 
nuuli (lie more anxious to do all I can in her case; but she will 
no* let me serve her." 

" There must be some strong reason for all this reserve, Timnib 
— Have you questioned the Swiss maid, that my niece sent tc 
her. A\'e know her, and it would seem that she knows jMary 
Monsoii. Here is so obvious a way of coming at (he past, I 
trust you have spoken to hcrT' 

" She will not let me say a word to (he maid. There they live 
together, chatter with one another from morning to night, in 
French, that nobody nnderstands ; but will see no one but me, 
and me only in public, as it might be." 

" In public ! — -You have not asked for privafc interviews, eh ! 
Tinimsi* Kemember your views upon the county, and the great 
danger there is of the electors' finding you out." 

" I well know, 'Squire Punscomb, that your oj)inion of me is 
not very llattering in some partic'lars; Avhile in others I think 
you place me pretty well up the ladder. As for old Huke's, I 
believe 1 stand as well in that county as any man in it, now tho 
llcvolutionary patriots are nearly gone. So long as any of them 
lasted, we modern fellows had no chance; and the way in which 
relics were brought to light was wonderful ! ]f Washington only 
had an army one-tenth as strong as these patriots make it out to 
be, he wt)uld have driven the ])ritish from (he ctnni(ry years 
gooner than it was actually done. Luckily, my grandfather did 
serve a sliort tour of duty in that war; and my own father was a 
captain of militia, in 1811, lying out on Harlem Heights and 
Uai'lem (\>mni(>n, most oi' the fall ; wh'.Mi and where he caught 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. , S7 

Ihe rhcumatifcim. This was no bad capital to start upon; and; 
though you treat it lightly, 'Squire, I'm a favourite in the county 
—I am!" 

" Nobody doubts it, Tiuims ; or can doubt it, if he knew the 
history of these matters. Let me see — I believe 1 first heard of 
you as a Temperance Lecturer ?" 

"Excuse mo; I began with the Common Schools, on which 1 
lectured with some success, one whole season. Then came the 
Temperance cause, out of which, I will own, not a little capital 
was made.'' 

" And do you stop there, Timmsj or do you ride some other 
hobby into power?" 

" It 's my way, Mr. Dunscomb, to try all sorts of mcd'ciues. 
Some folks that wunt touch rhubarb will swallow salts; and all 
palates must be satisfied. Free Sile and Emancipation Doctrines 
are coming greatly into favour ; but they are ticklish things, that 
cut like a two-edged sword, and I do not fancy meddling with 
them. There are about as many opposed to meddling with slavery 
in the free States, as there arc in favour of it. I wish I knew 
your sentiments, 'Squire Dunscomb, on this subject. I 've always 
found your doctrines touching the Constitution to be sound, and 
fuch as would stand examination." 

" The constitutional part of the question is very simple, and 
presents no difficulties whatever," returned the counsellor, squint- 
ing through the ruby of his glass, with an old-bachelor sort of 
delight, " except for those who have special ends to obtain." 

" Has, or has not, Congress a legal right to enact laws prevent- 
mg the admission of slaves into California?" 

" Congress has the legal right to govern any of its tcrrit(n-iea 
despotically ; of course, to admit or to receive what it may please 
within their limits. The resident of a territory is not a citizen, 
and has no legal claim to be so considered. California, as a con- 
quered territory, may be thus governed by the laws of naticjns, 



1 88 T H K W A Y S O F T II E 11 O U R. 

unless the treaty of cession places some restrictions on the autho 
rity of the conqueror. A great deal of absurdity is afloat among 
ttose who should know better, touching the powers of government 
in this country. You, fourself, are one of those fellows, Timms, 
who get things upside-aown, and fancy tlio Constitution is to be 
looked into for everything.'^ 

"And is it not, 'Squire? — that is, in the way of theory — in 
practice, I know it is a very different matter. Are we not to look 
into the Constitution for all the powers of the government?" 

" Of the government^ perhaps, in one sense — but not for those 
of the nation. Whence come the powers to make war and peace, 
to form treaties and alliances, maintain armies and navies, coin 
money, &c. V 

" You '11 find them all in the Constitution, as I read it, sir." 

" There is just your mistalvc ; and connected with it are most 
of the errors that are floating about in our political world. The 
country gets its legal right to do all these things from the lawa 
of nations ; the Constitution merely saying who shall be its agents 
in the exercise of these powers. Thus icar is rendered legal by 
the custom of nations; and the Constitution says Congress shall 
declare war. It also says Congress shall pass all laws that be- 
come necessary to carry out this power. It follows. Congress 
may pass any law that has a legitimate aim to secure a conquest. 
Nor is this all the functionai-ies of the government can do, on 
general principles, in the absence of any special provisions by a 
direct law. The latter merely supersedes or directs the power 
if the former. The Constitution guarantees nothing to the ter- 
ritories. They are strictly subject, and may be governed abso- 
lutely. The only protection of their people is in the sympathy 
and habits of the people of the States. AVe give them political 
liberty, not as of legal necessity, but as a boon to which they are 
entitled in good-fellowship — or as the father provides for hia 
children." 



T 11 E W A V S O F T 11 K H (> U R. I 80 

" Then you think Congress has power to exclude slavery h\m 
California?'' 

"I can't imagine a greater legal absurdity than to deny it. 1 
see no use in any legislation on the subject, as a matter of prac- 
tice, since California will shortly decide on this interest for itself; 
but, as a right in theory, it strikes mc to be madness to deny 
that the government of the United States has full power over all 
its territories, both on general principles and under the Constitu- 
tion." 

" And in the Decstrict — you hold to the same power in the 
Deestrict?" 

" Beyond a question. Congress can abolish domestic servitude 
or slavery in the District of Columbia, whenever it shall see fit. 
The right is as clear as the sun at noon-day." 

"If these are your opinions, 'Squire, I'll go for Free Sile and 
Abolition in the Decstrict. They have a popular cry, and take 
wonderfully well in Duke's, and will build me up considerable. 
I like to be right; but, most of all, I like to be strong." 

" If you adopt such a course, you will espouse trouble witliout 
any dower, and that will be worse than McBrain's three wives ; 
and, what is more, in the instance of the District, you will bo 
guilty of an act of oppression. You will remember that the 
possession of a legal power to do a particular thing, docs not infer 
a moral right to exercise it. As respects your Free Soil, it may 
be well to put down a foot ; and, so far as votes legally used can 
be thrown, to prevent the further extension of slavery. In this 
respect you are right enough, and will be sustained by an over- 
whelming majority of the nation ; but, when it comes to the 
District, the question has several sides to it." 

" You said yourself, 'Squire, that Congress has all power to 
legislate for the Decstrict?" 

" No doubt it has — but the possession of a power does not 
ascessarily inq)ly its use. Wo have power, fis a nation, to make 



1 90 THE W A Y S OF T H E II V R . 

W&r on little Portugal, and crush her; but it would be very 
wicked to do so. When a member of Congress votes on any 
question that strictly applies to the District, he should reason 
precisely as if his constituents all lived in the District itself 
You will understand, Tinims, that liberty is closely connected 
with practice, and is not a mere creature of phrases and pro- 
fessions. What more intolerable tyranny could exist than to have 
a man elected by New Yorkers legislating for the District on 
strictly New York policy ; or, if you will, on New York prejudices? 
If the people of the District wish to get rid of the institution 
of domestic slavery, there are ways for ascertaining the foct ; and 
once assured of that, Congress ought to give the required relief. 
]]ut in framing such a law, great care should be taken not to 
violate the comity of the Union. The comity of nations is, in 
practice, a portion of their laws, and is respected as such ; how 
much more, then, ought we to respect this comity in mannging 
the relations between the several States of this Union !" 

*^Y^es, the sovereign States of the Union," laying emphasis 
on the word we have italicized. 

" l^shaw — they are no more sovereign than you and I arc so 
vereign." 

" Not sovereign, sir !" exclaimed Timms, actually jumping to 
his feet in astonishment ; " why this is against the National Faith 
^-contrary to all the theories." 

" Something so, I must confess ; yet very good common sense. 
If there be any sovereignty left in the States, it is the very 
mininuun, and a thing of show, rather than of substance. If 
you will look at the Constitution, you will find that the equa 
representation of the States in the Senate is the only right of 
sovereign character that is left t-o the members of the Union 
separate and apart from their confederated communities," 

Timms rubbed his brows, and seemed to be in some inentnl 
I rouble. The doctrine of the '' Sovereign States" is so very com* 



THE WAYS OF Tlli: HOUR. 101 

iLon^ k30 familiar in men's mouths, that no one dreams of disputing 
it. Nevertheless, Dunscomb had a great reputation in his set, as 
a constitutional lawyer; and the "expounders'* were very apt to 
steal his demonstrations, without giving him credit for them. As 
before the nation, a school-boy would have carried equal weight; 
but the direct, vigorous, common-sense arguments that he brought 
to the discussions, as well as the originality of his views, ever 
commanded the profound respect of the intelligent. Tirams had 
cut out for himself a path by which he intended to ascend in the 
scale of society ; and had industriously, if not very profijundly, 
considered all the agitating questions of the day, in the relations 
they might be supposed to bear to his especial interests. lie had 
almost determined to come out an abolitionist; for he saw that 
the prejudices of the hour were daily inclining the electors of the 
northern Stat«3, more and more, to oppose the further extension 
of domestic slavery, so far as surface was concerned, which was 
in cflfect preparing the way for the final destruction of the insti- 
tution altogether. For Mr. Dunscomb, however, this wily limb 
of the law, and skilful manager of men, had the most profound 
respect ; and he was very glad to draw him out still further on a 
subject that was getting to be of such intense interest to himself, 
as well as to the nation at large ; for, out of all doubt, it is the 
question, not only of the " Hour," but for years to come. 

" Well, sir, this surprises me more and more. The States not 
sovereign ! — Why, they gave all the power it possesses to the 
Federal Government!" 

" Very true ; and it is precisely for that reason they are not 
sovereign — that which is given away is no longer possessed. All 
the great powers of sovereignty arc directly bestowed on the 
Union, which alone possesses them." 

"I will grant you that, 'Squire; but enough is retained to 
hang either of us The deuce is in it if that be not a sovoreiiin 
power." 



192 T 11 E W A y S O ¥ T HE 11 O U K. 

" It doea not follow from the instance cited. Send a squadron 
abroad, and its officers can liang; but they are not sovereign, for 
the simple reason that there is a recognised authority over them, 
which can increase, sustain, or take away altogether, any such 
and all other power. Thus is it with the States. By a particular 
clause, the Constitution can be amended, including all the interests 
involved, with a single exception. This is an instance in which 
the exception does strictly prove the rule. All interests but the 
one excepted can be dealt with, by a species of legislation that is 
higher than common. The Union can constitutionally abolish 
domestic slavery altogether " 

"It can ! — It would be the making of any political man's for- 
tune to be able to show that !" 

"Nothing is easier than to show it, in the way of theory, 
Timms ; though nothing would be harder to achieve, in the way 
of practice. The Constitution can be legally amended so as to 
effect this end, provided majorities in three-fourths of the States 
can be obtained ; though every living soul in the remaining States 
were opposed to it. That this is the just construction of the 
great fundamental law, as it has been solemnly adopted, no dis- 
creet man can doubt; though, on the other hand, no discreet 
person would think of attempting such a measure, as the vote 
necessary to success cannot be obtained. To talk of the sove- 
reignty of a community over this particular interest, for instance, 
when all the authority on the subject can be taken from it in 
direct opposition to the wishes of every man, woman and child 
it contains, is an absurdity. The sovereignty, as respects slavery, 
is in the Union, and not in the several States; and therein you 
can see the fallacy of contending tliat Congress has nothing to do 
with the interest, when Congress can take the initiative in alter- 
ing this or any other clause of the gi-eat national compact." 

" But, the Deestrict — the Deestrict, 'Squire Dunscomb — what 
:an and ought to be done there?''* 



THE WAYS OF TH^ H O J R. 193 

" I believe in my soul, Timms, yoa have an aim on a seat in 
Congress ! Why stop short of the Presidency ? Men as little 
likely as yourself to be elevated to that high ojffice have been 
placed in the executive chair; and why not you as well as an- 
other?'' 

" It is an office ' neither to be sought nor declined/ said an 
eminent statesman," answered Timms, with a seriousness that 
amused his companion ; who saw, by his manner, that his old 
pupil held himself in reserve for the accidents of political life. 
" But, sir, I am very anxious to get right on the subject of the 
Deestrict" — Timms pronounced this word as we have spelt it — 
" and I know that if any man can set me right, it is yourself." 

" As respects the District, Mr. Timms, here is my faith. It 
is a territory provided for in the Constitution for a national pur- 
pose, and must be regarded as strictly national property, held 
exclusively for objects that call all classes of citizens within its 
borders. Now, two great principles, in my view, should control 
all legislation for this little community. As I have said already, 
it would be tyranny to make the notions and policy of New York 
or Vermont bear on the legislation of the District ; but, every 
member is bound to act strictly as a representative of the people 
of the spot for whom the law is intended. If I were in Congress, 
I would at any time, on a respectable application, vote to refer 
the question of abolition to the people of the District; if they 
said ay, I would say ay ; if no, no. Beyond this I would never 
go ; nor do I think the man who wishes to push matters beyond 
this, sufficiently respects the general principles of representative 
government, or knows how to respect the spirit of the national 
compact. On the supposition that the District ask relief from 
the institution of slavery, great care should be observed in grant- 
ing the necessary legislation. Although the man in South Caro- 
lina has no more right to insist that the District should maintaiu 
^he ^ peculiar institution,* because his particular State maintains 

9 



1 04 THE AV A Y S OF THE II U K . 

it, thaii the A'ormoiiteso to insist on carrying liis Green Mountain 
notions into the District laws ; yet lias the Carolinian rights in 
this territory that must ever be respected, let the general policy 
udopted be what it may. Every American lias an implied right 
to visit the District on tonus of equality. Now, there would be 
no equality if a law were passed excluding the domestics from 
any portion of the country. In the slave States, slaves exclu- 
sively perform the functions of domestics ; and sweeping abolition 
might very easily introduce regulations that would be unjust to- 
wards the slave-holders. As respects the northern man, the 
existence of slavery in or out of the District is purely a specula- 
tive question ; but it is not so with the southern. This should 
never be forgotten; and I always feel disgust when I hear a 
northern man swagger and make a parade of his morality on this 
subject." 

" But the southern men swagger and make a pai-ade of their 
chivalry, 'Squire, on the other hand!" 

" Quite true ; but, with them, there is a strong provocation. 
It is a matter of life and death to the south; and the comity of 
which I spoke requires great moderation on our part. As for the 
threats of dissolution, of which we have had so many, like the 
cry of ' wolf,' they have worn themselves out, and are treated 
with indiifereuce." 

"The threat is still used, IMr. Dunscomb!" 

" Beyond a doubt, Timms ; but of one thing you may rest well 
assured — if ever there be a separation between the free and the 
Blave States of this Union, the wedge will be driven home by 
northern hands ; not by indirection, but coolly, steadily, and with 
a thorough northern doterniination to open the seam. There 
will be no fuss about chivalry, but the thing will be done. I 
regard the measure as very unlikely to happen, the ^Mississippi 
md its tributaries binding the States together, to say notliiiig of 
ancestry, history, and moral ties, in a way to render a ruptuic 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 195 

very difficult to effect ; but, should it come at all, rely on it, it 
will come directly from the north. I am sorry to say there is an 
impatience of the threats and expedients that have so much dis- 
figured southern policy, that have set many at the north to ^ cal- 
culating the value ;* and thousands may now be found where ten 
years since it would not have been easy to meet wiih one, who 
deem separation better than union with slavery. Still, the 
general feeling of the north is passive ; and I trust it will so con- 
tinue." 

'^ Look at the laws for the recovery of fugitives, 'Squire, and 
the manner in which they are administered." 

" Bad enough, I grant you, and full of a want of good faith. 
Go to the bottom of this subject, Timms, or let it alone altoge- 
ther. Some men will tell you that slavery is a sin, and contrary 
to revealed religion. This I hold to be quite untrue. At all 
events, if it be a sin, it is a sin to give ^he son the rich inherit- 
ance of the father, instead of dividing it among the poor ; to eat 
a dinner while a hungrier man than yourself is within sound of 
your voice ; or, indeed, to do anything that is necessary and agree- 
able, when the act may be still more necessary to, or confer greater 
pleasure on, another. I believe in a Providence ; and I make 
little doubt that African slavery is an important feature in God's 
Laws, instead of being disobedience to them. — But enough of 
this, Timms — you will court popularity, which is your Archime- 
dean lever, and forget all I tell you. Is Mary Monson in greater 
favour now than when I last saw you?" 

" The question is not easily answered, sir. She pays well, and 
money is a powerful screw!" 

"I do not inquire what you do with her money," said Dans- 
oomb, with the evasion of a man who knew that it would not do 
to probe every weak spot in morals, any more than it would du 
to inflame the diseases of the body ; " but, I own, I should like 
fco know if our client has any suspicions of its uses?" 



190 T Jl E W A Y S O F T HE HOUR. 

Timins dow cast a furtive glance behind him, and edged hi" 
chair nearer to his companion, in a confidential way, as if he 
would tri'i't him with a private opinion that he should keep reli- 
giously from all othertj. 

''Not only does she know all about it," he answered, with a 
knowing inclination of the head, " but she enters into the affair, 
heart and hand. To my great surprise, she has even made two 
or three suggestions that were capital in their way ! Capital ! 
yes, sir ; quite capital ! If you were not so stiff in your practice, 
'Squire, I should delight to tell you all about it. She 's sharp, 
you may depend on it ! She 's wonderfully sharp I" 

" What ! — That refined, lady-like, accomplished young wo- 
man!" 

" She has an accomplishment or two you '\e never dreamed 
of, 'Squire. I 'd pit her ag'in the sharpest practitioner in Duke's, 
and she 'd come out ahead. I thought I knew something of pre- 
paring a cause ; but she has given hints that will be worth more 
to me than all her fees!" 

" You do not mean that she shows experience in such prac- 
tices?" 

" Perhaps not. It seems more like mother-wit, I acknowledge ; 
but it 's mother-wit of the brightest sort. She understands them 
reporters by instinct, as it might be. What is more, she backs 
all her suggestions with gold, or current bank-notes." 

" And where can she get so much money ? " 

" That is more than I can tell you," returned Timms, opening 
some papers belonging to the case, and laying them a little form- 
ally before the senior counsel, to invite his particular attention. 
'' I 've never thought it advisable to ask the question." 

" Timms, you do not, cannot think Mary Monson guilty?" 

" I never go beyond the necessary facts of a case ; and my 
opinion is of no consequence whatever. We are employed to 
defend her ; and the counsel for the State are not about to get a 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 197 

verdict without some working for it. That 's my conscience in 
these matters, ^Squire Dunscomb." 

Dunscomb asked no more questions. He turned gloomily tc 
the papers, shoved his glass aside, as if it gave him pleasure no 
longer, and began to read. For near four hours he and Timms 
were earnestly engaged m preparing a brief, and in othcp.vifie 
getting the cauae reedy tor trial. 



J 08 T 11 K WAYS OF THE II O U U. 



CHAPTER XIL 

Hel. O, that my prayers could such affection move ! 
Her. The more I liate, the more he follows me. 
Hel. The more I love, the more he hateth me. 
Her. His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine. 

Midsummer NighVs Dream. 

While Dunscomb and Timms were thus employedj the younger 
members of the party very naturally sought modes of entertain- 
ment that were more in conformity with their tastes and years. 
John "VVilmeter had been invited to be present at the consulta- 
tion ; but his old feelings were revived, and he found a pleasure 
in being with Anna that induced him to disregard the request. 
Ilis sister and his friend were now betrothed, and they had 
glided off along one of the pretty paths of the Rattletrap 
woods, in a way that is so very common to persons in their situa- 
tion. This left Jack alone with Anna. The latter was timid, 
shy even ; while the former was thoughtful. Still, it was not 
easy to separate ; and they, too, almost unconsciously to thom 
solves, were soon walking in that pleasant wood, following one 
of its broadest and most frequented paths, however. 

John, naturally enough, imputed the thoughtfulness of his 
companion to the event of the morning; and he spoke kindly to 
her, and with a gentle delicacy on the subject, that more than 
once compelled the warm-hearted girl to struggle against her 
tears. After he had said enough on this topic, the young man 
followed the current of his own thoughts, and spoke of her he 
had left in the gaol of Biberry. 



THE W AYS O F T II E II O U II . 1 9'.) 

" llcr case is most extraordinary," continued John, " and i( 
has excited our liveliest sympathy. By ours, I mean the disin- 
terested and intelligent; for the vulgar prejudice is strong against 
her. Sarah, or even yourself, Anna" — his companion looked 
more like herself, at this implied compliment, than she had done 
before that day — " could not seem less likely to be guilty of any- 
thing wrong, than this Miss Monson ; yet she stands indicted, 
and is to be tried for murder and arson ! To me, it seems mon- 
strous to suspect such a person of crimes so heinous." 

Anna remained silent half a minute; for she had sufficient 
good sense to know that appearances, unless connected with facts, 
ought to have no great weight in forming an opinion of guilt or 
innocence. As Jack evidently expected an answer, however, his 
companion made an effort to speak. 

" Does she say nothing of her friends, nor express a wish to 
have them informed of her situation?'' Anna succeeded in 
asking. 

" Not a syllable. I could not speak to her on the subject, you 
know " 

"Why not?'' demanded Anna, quickly. 

" Why not ? — You 've no notion, Anna, of the kind of person 
this Miss Monson is. You cannot talk to her as you would to an 
every-day sort of young lady ; and, now she is in such distress, 
one is naturally more cautious about saying anything to add to 
her sorrow." 

" Yes, I can understand that,^' returned the generous-minded 
girl ; " and I think you are very right to remember all this, oa 
every occasion. Still, it is so natural for a female to lean on her 
friends, in every great emergency, I cannot but wonder that your 
cMent " 

" Don't call her my client, Anna, I beg of you. I hate the 
word as applied to this lady. If I serve her in atiy degree, it is 
■jolely as a friend. The same feeling prevails with Uncle Tom ; 



'.MK) T ri K \v A Y M (> r-' r it k ii o w n, 

|nr I Mii(](>rsl:intl lu' liiis Udl, rt"('civ<'(l ii (-(Mil. df Miss Moiihoh'a 
liKtiK'V, llit»ii!j;li n\\r is liln'ral of il. lo {>r(»rusriu'ss. 'riinms i;^ 
lu'luMlly ^fliiii^ ricli o\\ it." 

" Is ili usiiiil for you •^i-nllcmcn of ilic )>;ir to «.';iv(> lli(>ir Mir- 
v'un^s j:;r!ituilouslj to Ihosd wlm can \n\y lor (Ikmu'i:"' 

" Am Imp from it mm ])(»ssil>l(>," rclnnuMl flaclv, laugliiuti;. " Wo 
liiok (() (iii» main clianrd lik(^ .so many inrrcliants or brokers, and 
seldom open onr nionlhs willioul .slinlfmi;- our licarls. I>iili iliis 
is u case alto<j;cliicr out of the «'Oinnion i\ili> ; and Mv. l>nnsconib 
>vorks for love, jmuI not tor money." 

Had Aima cared lt\Ms lor .lolin W'ilmclcr, slit* mi!j;)it liav(> said 
Mtmt»lliin^ clever about the iu'j)he\v's being in the same cat«»»!;t)ry 
as the uncle; but her It'olings vviM'o too (leej)ly interested to sulVcr 
lur «>ven to thiidc what would seem to lier profano. After u luo- 
menl's pause, tlu>rel\)re, sIk* (|uieily said — 

" 1 btdievo you have intimated that iNlr. 'i'imms is not «|uilt> so 
disintiMVstedr' 

" Not ho — l\liss Mt^nson has oiven him fees amoiuilin«j; to a 
thousand dollars, l>y his own admission ; and the felKnv has had 
the conscience io U\\io the njout^y. I have remonstrated about 
his lK>ecin^ a frientllcss ^vomau in this extravai^ant manner; but 
he lani;;lis in \ny laci> for my pains. Timnis has ^ood points, but 
hoju\sty is not om^ oi' tlu-m. Wo s^iys no woman I'an be friendless 
who lias a pn^tty fai-c, and a pocki^t full o( money." 

" Vou can hardly call a pi-rson unlViended who has so miudi 
money at command, ♦lohn," .\nna answtMcd with timiility ; but 
not without manit\>st inti>resl in the subj(>ct. " A tluuisand dollars 
sounils like a largt* sum to nn>!" 

** It is a i^ood deal of nuM\ey tor a fee; thoui;h nnicU mtuv is 
sometimes ;i;iviMi. I dare say Miss iMimson wouhl have gladly 
giviMi tin* same to uncle Tom, if he would have taktMi it. Timms 
told me that she pn>posed olVering as nuich to him ; but ho piii'« 
dimded her to waif until the trial was over." 



TIIK WAYH OK T II K II O I) II. tiOl 

" Anrl where docH all tliirt money coine from, .ioliii V 

"I 'm Hure I do not know — I am not at all in MisH MonHon'rt 
jonlidenco; on her pecuniary afFairs, at leaHt. She docs honour 
me HO mneh an to consult me abf)ut li(;r trl:d occasional ly, it is 
true; but to me she has never alluded to money, excejjt to ask 
me to obtain chan;i;e for large not(!M. T do not see anything ho 
very wonderful in a lady's liaving money. Vou, who .-ire a sort 
of heircHH yourHclf, ought to know that." 

"I do not get money in thouHandw, J can assun; you. Jack; 
nor do 1 think that I have it to g(!t. I believe my whf>l(; income 
would not much mon^ tliim ni(;et the, exjjenditure of this strange 
woman " 

" Do not call her inornan, Ann;i; it p.-ilns me to hc;ii"you sjieak 
of her in such terms." 

"J, beg her pardon and yours, Ja{;k; but I meant no disre- 
Hpect. Wc are all women." 

" I know it is foolish to feel nervous on such a Hubje(;t; but I 
cannot help it. One connects ho many ideas <jf vulgarity ;inrl 
criuKj, with prisons, and indictments, and trials, that we are apt 
to suppose all who are accused to b(dong to the commoner classriH. 
Such in not the fact with Miss Monson, J can assure you. j\ot 
even Sarah — nay, not even yourself , my dear Anna, can pret<;n<i 
to more decided marks of refinement and educatifju. I do not 
krunv a more distinguished young woman " 

"There, Jack; now 7yo//(;all her a woman yourself," interrujded 
Anna, a little archly ; secretly delighted at the compliujent she 
bad just heard. 

" Young yfotn-du — anybody can \^;iy tlial,^ you know, without 
implying anything comnirjn (jr vulgar; and woman too, somo 
dmes. I do not know how it was; but I did not ex;w;tly like 
the word as you hap{)encd to use it. 1 beli(;ve cloH<i and long 
watching is making me nervous; and V am not quite .'w muth 
'^nywdf a>i usual." 



202 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

Anna gave a very soft sigb, and that seemed to afford hel 
relief, though it was scarcely audible; then she continued tlie 
subject. 

"How old is this extraordinary young lady?'*' she demanded, 
Bcarce speaking loud enough to be heard. 

" Old ! How can I tell ? She is very youthful in appearance ) 
but, from the circumstance of her having go much money at 
command, I take it for granted she is of age. The law now gives 
to every woman the full command of all her property, even though 
married, after she become of age." 

" Which I trust you find a very proper attention to the rights 
of our SGxV 

" I care very little about it ; though Uncle Tom says it is of a 
piece with all our late New York legislation." 

" Mr. Dunscomb, like most elderly persons, has little taste for 
change." 

" It is not that. He thinks that minds of an ordinary stamp 
are running away with the conceit that they are on the road of 
progress ; and that most of our recent improvements, as they are 
called, are marked by empiricism. This 'tea-cup law,^ as he 
terms it, will set the women above their husbands, and create two 
sets of interests where there ought to be but one." 

" Yes ; I am aware such is his opinion. He remarked, the 
day he brought home my mother's settlement for the signatures, 
that it was the most ticklish part of his profession to prepare such 
papers. I remember one of his observations, which struck me as 
being very just." 

"Which you mean to repeat to me, Anna?" 

" Certainly, John, if you wish to hear it," returned a gentle 
voice, coming from one unaccustomed to refuse any of the reason- 
able requests of this particular applicant. "The remark of Mr. 
Dunscomb was this : — He said that most family misunderstand- 
ings grew out of money; and he thought it unwise to set it up 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. tiOH 

US a bone of contention between man and wife. Where there waK 
BO close a union in all other matters, he thought there niiglit 
safely be a community of interests in this respect. He saw no 
sufficient reason for altering the old law, which had the great 
merit of having been tried." 

" He could hardly persuade rich fathers, and vigilant guardians, 
who have the interests of heiresses to look after, to subscribe to 
all his notions. They say that it is better to make a provision 
against imprudence and misfortune, by settling a woman's fortune 
on herself, in a country where speculation tempts so many to 
their ruin.*' 

" I do not object to anything that may have an eye to an evil 
day, provided it be done openly and honestly. Eut the income 
should be common property, and like all that belongs to a family, 
should pass under the control of its head." 

" It is very liberal in you to say and think this, Anna V 

"It is what every woman, who has a true woman's heart, 
could wish, and would do. For myself, I would marry no man 
whom I did not respect and look up to in most things; and 
surely, if I gave him my heart and my hand, I could wish to 
give him as much control over my means as circumstances would 
at all allow. It might be prudent to provide against misfortune 
by means of settlements; but this much done, I feel certain it 
would afford me the greatest delight to commit all that I could 
to a husband's keeping." 

" Suppose that husband were a spendthrift, and wasted your 
estate ?" 

" He could waste but the income, were there a settlement; and 
I would rather share the consequences of his imprudence with 
him, than sit aloof in selfish enjoyment of that in which lie did 
oot partake." 

All this sounded very well in John's ears ; and he knew Anna 
Updyko too well to suppose she did rot fully mean all that, ebe 



-0 I T II K W A \ S O K T H K II O V R. 

mid. Ho wimaIouhI Avh.it luiiilit he 31;u'v Moiisc^u'h viows on iliis 
Bubject. 

"It is pi^ssiblo tor i\\c luisbaml to p:irl;iluM)t' Uio wit\''s \vo:ilth, 
cviMi uhon ho (loos wot conmiaml it," llio voinii;- man ivsniuofi, 
anxious (o hoar what nioro Anna niiirht havo to say. 

*' What. ! as a dopondant on hor bounty ? No woman \Yho n^ 
spoots horsolf oouKl wish to si'O hor husbaiul so dogi'ailoil ; njiy, 
no I'omalo, who has a truo woman's hoart, wouhl ovor oonsont to 
phuv tho man t*> whom sho has giyon hor hand, in so false u 
position. It is tor tlio woman to bo doponvlont on tho man, and 
not tho man on tho woman. 1 ap;roo fully with Mr. Punsoctinb, 
wht^u ho says that *silkon knots aR> too clolicato to ho nuloly un- 
done by dollars.' Tho family iu whioh tho bond has to iisk tho 
wife for tho uumiov that is to vsupport it, must soon go wrong; ai|» 
it is plaoiug tho woakor yossol upporuu\'^t." 

"You would mako a capital wiTo, Anna, if fluv^o aro roally 
ytuir opiuiims I" 

Anna blushod, and almost ropontod of hor gonorous warmth ; 

but, biMug ]HM-footly siuooro, sho would not dony hor sontimouta. 

"Thoy ouii;ht to bo (ho opinion of ovory wifo," sho nnsworod. 

* *^ 
*' I could not onduro to seo tho man to whom I could wish on all 

ivcasimis to \oo\i up, solioiting tho moans on whioh wo both sulv- 

sistoil. It wiuUd bo my dolight, if 1 had monoy and ho had none, 

to pour all into his la]>, and thon cv>mo and ask oli him iis much 

as was nooossarv to my comfort " 

" If ho had tho soul o( a man ho would lu^t wail to bo askod, 
but would ondoavour to anticipate your sn.uillost wants. 1 be- 
lieve you aio right, and that happiuOv^s is best secunnl by couli- 
donoo." 

" .Vr.d in not rovorsing tho laws of nature. "Why do women 
vow to obey and honour their husbands, if they aro to ret^iin them 
.\s dependants? T declare, John "Wilmetor, I should almost de- 
spise the man who eould ctMisent to live with nu' on any torme 



T If K W A V « OF T II K H O «.' K. " ^^ wOfy 

but tJiOHO in which uatun;, tlic cliuroh, find icrmon, unit/; in t/;]]irig 
UH he ought to ])(: tlio HujKirior." 

" \Vf;ll, Anna, IIiIh in <f')')<\, oIfi-f;iHhionof], womanly H';nliiiient; 
arn] f will confoHS it dolightH mo to Ijoar it from t/ow, I. am tii<i 
hottor ploxsod, bncauwj, a,s Uncle Tom m alwajH complaining, the 
wcakncHH of the liour m to plarx) your wx above ourn, and to ro 
\ ;rHO all the ancient rulcH in thin rcKpcct. Lot a woman, now-?!/- 
dayH, run away from her hunband, and carry off the children; it 
is UiU to one but «fjme crotchety judge, who thinkn more of a 
character built up fui gonnip tlian f^f deferring properly to that 
which the lawH of God and the wiHdom of man have decreed, re- 
fuHC U) iHHue a writ of habeas corpun to rentore the insue U) the 
parent." 

" I do not know, John,'' — Anna henitatingly rejoined, with a 
ti'iie woman'H iuHtinct — "it would be ho hard to rob a motlier of 
her children I" 

" It njjght be hard, but in Huch a cane it would be jusL I 
like that word 'rob,' for it Huitw both parties. 1"o rnr;, it HeeiuH 
that the father is the party robbed, when the wife not only HUmh 
away from her duty to her liusband, but deprives him of his 
children tr)0.'^ 

" It is wrong, and I have lieard Mr. Dunscomb express great 
indignation at what he called the 'soft-HoapincHs' of certain judges 
iu ca«eH of this nature. Still, John, the world is apt to think a 
woman would not abandon the most sacred of her duties without 
a cause. That feeling must be at the botUjm of what you call 
the decision, 1 believe, of these judges." 

•• Jf there be such a caune as would justify a woman in dc:sertr 
ing her husband, and in stealing his children — for it is robbery 
after all, and robbery of the worst sort, since it involves breachcH 
:)f faith of the most heinous nature — let that cause be shown, 
that justice may pronounce between the parties. Besides, it i« 
not tnic that women will not sometimes ff>rget their duties with 



LMK) ^^ J I' II 10 WAYS t) K T II K II (» U II. 

nut .sulVuMonl. cmusc. TIkmh \\\\\ (':ii>r"u'i(>us, .-iiid muHMlniii, uiul 
rgolistical woiikmi, >v1i() follow thi!ir own w.i^'w.inl iiiclinalioiis, uy 
\V(>11 lis st'Hlsh nuMi. Sonio wonuMi lovo power intciis(>ly, and arc 
lu'ViT Malistiod with ►siini»ly rillin«j; tlu; placid llial. was iiilcndcd lot 
UuMii b}' nafuro. Jt is hard lor such to submit to (lu-ir husbands, 
or, indood, to submit to any oiu\" 

*' It uuist be a strango IVmalc," answered Anna, ij^ently, " who 
rannot suller the control of the man of her ehoiee, after (juittiug 
father and mother for his salco." 

" Dillerent women have dilVennit sourees of ])ride, that make 
their husbands very uneouifortablc, oven wIumi tlu^y remain with 
them, and alVect to disehar<^o their duties. One will pride lu'r- 
pelf on family, and talce (»very oeeasion lo h>t Ium- beloveil partner 
Know how mueh better she is eonneclcd than he may happen to 
be; anotluM- is eonei>itv<l, and taiu'ies luM'self elexiTer than her 
h»nl and mast(>r, and would fain liave him take //cr udviee on all 
oeeasions; while a third may have tlio most money, and deli<i;ht 
in K^ltiui;; it be known that it is her porkt't. that sustains tho 
housidiokl." 

" 1 did not know, John, that yt>u tliought so nuieh of those 
things," said Anna, laughing; "though I think you are very 
right in your opinions. Pray, which of the thn>e evils that yim 
have mentioninl would you i'onei>ive the greatest '/" 

" The second. 1 might stand family ])ride ; though it is dis- 
gusting wluMi it is not riilieulous. Then tbe money might be got 
along with for its own sake, provided tho purso wore in my hand ; 
but 1 really do not think 1 covdd live with :i woman who fancied 
6ho knew tbe most." 

*' Uut, in many things, wonuMi ought to, and do know the 
most." 

" Oh ! as \y> aeeomplishnumts, and small talk, and making 
preserves, and daiu'ing, and even poetry and religion — yes, 1 
win throw in religion — 1 eoidd wish my wife to be clever — ver) 



TFIK W A Y H OK T It FO IFOOR. 207 

L'lover — as clever an you aro yourHclf, Aniiu" — I'lio fjiii- lislciuji 
Mjlourod, though her cycH brightened at this uniiiteFided l>iit very 
direct corupliment — " Ych, yes; all that would do well eiiougli. 
But when it came to the affairs of men, out-of-door eoFiuenis, or 
polities, or law, or anything, indeed, that called for a masculine 
edue.Ttion and undei'standing, I could not endure a woman who 
r;m(;i(;d nhe knew the most." 

" I should think few wives would dream of troidJing fli(;ii 
IniHli.'inds with their opitiions touching the l;i.w!" 

" 1 don't know that. You \e no notion, Anri;i, to what a pass 
cv)iiceir> can carry a pei'son ; — you, who are ho diHiileiit ;uid nhy, 
and always so njady to yield to those who ought to ktiow best. 
I've m(!t with wom(;n who, not content with arF-aying their own 
charms in their own way, must fancy they can tea(;h u.s how t<j 
put on our clothes, tell us how to turn o;^r a wristhand, or settle 
a shii'f/-eollar \" 

"This is not conceit, John, but good taste," cried Ann;i, now 
laughing outright, and appearing herself again. " it is ni(;n;l_y 
female tact teaching male awkwardness liow to adorn itself. Jiut, 
surely, no woman, John, would bother herself ab(;ut law, let her 
love of doFrilnntion be as strong as it might." 

" I 'fu n(jt so sure of that. The only really complaisant thing 
I ever saw about this Mary Monson" — a cloud again passed 
athwart the bright countenance of Anna — " was a sort of strange 
predilcctioFi for law. Even 'J'imms has r(;m;uked it, and com- 
lU'iwU'Al on it too." 

" 'J'hc poor woman " 

" Do not use that word Iff speaking of her, if you please, Anrja.'* 

"Well, lady — if you like that better " 

" No — say young lady — or Miss MonsoFi — or Mary, which 
has the most agreeable sound of all.'' 

" Yet, I think I have been told that none of you believe sh' 
fi'jB been indiefcd by h(;r real name." 



S(JH I II K W A V H «. K I II K II () II K. 

" \'rt\ hut'; l)u(. it nciKi'M no tlilVcrciicc. (^lU lu'r hy licit. sliC 
luiW a;vsimn'*l ; but do n(»(. cmII licr l>y mu :ili:is ;is wrrlcluMl ;im lliiit 
of' ' |)()(>r >vt>nimi.' " 

" 1 iiu'Miil. no sli!';lil, I do nssuro )()u, .lolin ; lor I t'rrl nlinost 
ns niucli iuhMTsI in aMiss IMonson :im you do yoursi'lf. 1 1, is not 
.f'urpri.siiii;', lunvovor, {\\:\l (Mh* in her silunlion ^tliould l'cv\ an in- 
^M'tst, ill llu> law." 

*• ll is Mol lliis sor(. of inliTosl. llial. 1 nu'an. It. lias sriMurd to 
iiio, ouc(> or t.wici', tiiat. sho di>alt. Avitli tho dilVuadlios oi' Ium* own 
OftSU JiH if sho took a |)l(>asuro iu nuv^ting tluMu--liad a sjnricH 
of JU'ofossional plcasun* iu ('oU(|uinin!i; thriu. 'I'iuuns Nvill not. lot 
mc into his soi'icts, and 1 am j;lad oi' it, for I fancy all oi' IIumu 
would not. lu^ir tho li^lit; but. ho tolls uu', honc^stly, that stMuo 
of Miss Mouson's suiri'iostiiuis havo bivn (]uito adiuirablo!" 

" I'tMhaps slu> has HnHMi" -Anna. cluH'kod horsolf with llu) 

iH)Usoit>usuoss (hat what, vsho was about to uIIit ini^ht aj)poHr to 
1)0, and what was of still gToatiM* iiuporlanoo in hor own oyoH, 
nii^ht n-allv bo, nnpMUM'tnis. 

" Torhaps what i'' JMuish tht> sonfiMiO(\ I lu'ii; oi' you." 

Auua shook hor hoad. 

" Vou intoudod to say that ]Huhaps IMiss Monsou haii some 
fjfH'rirncc iu tlu^ law, and that it p;avo ln'r a oorlain satisfaotiou 
to i-onliMul with its dilVu'ultii's, iu oonsoipionoo oi' pri>vi(>us trani- 
iuij;. Am 1 not right'/" 

Anna would not auswor iu tiMius ; but sho i2;avo a littlo nod in 
iwssont, oolonriui;' soarlot. 

" 1 know it; and I will bo frank ouougli to own that Tiuunsi 
thinks tho sauio thinp;. llo has hiutod as much as that; but tho 
thiuii; is impossiblo. Vou havo (>nly to look at hor, to soo that 
Muh a thin;^; is impossiblo." 

Aiuia I'pdyki^ thought that almost anything o( tho sort might 
l>o possible to i\ fomalo who was iu tho oiroumstanoos of tho ao- 
.>us»mI ; this, howovor, sho would not sav. lost it mi^ht wound 



T 11 K WAYS () K T II K II O U R. 200 

Joliri's fcelingH, for whicli hIic Iirul nil Uh; tcndcrncHrt of vvunii 
ulfcction, juid a woni;ui'H Kclf-(l(;r)i;il. IIu<l the caHC ])wn rcvorscMJ, 
it \h }>y no incariH j)ro]ja}jI(i i\vd \u.r iiiipiilHlvo companion would 
liavti inanifcsU'd tlio s;ini(! for})(;;i.r:irH;(! on her :i<!Coiint. ,JoIiri 
would have contended for victory, and pressed hiH adversary with 
all tlie argiHnents, facts and reasons he eould nmster, on such an 
occasion. Not so with the gentler and infjre thoughtful young 
woni:i.ri vviio was now WMlkiiig (pii(;ily, ;irid a litlle sadly, at liis 
Hide, instinct with all th<! gcntlciK!;-;:-!, self denial, and wann-he'arted 
(ifleetlon of lier sex. 

" No, it is worse than an absurdity" — resumed .John — "it in 

cruel, to imagine anything of tlic Kort of Miss I>y the way, 

Anna, do you know that a very aingular thing oeeurnjd last even 
ing, before T drove over to town, to be present at the wedding. 
You Idiow Mario Mill?'' 

" ('ertainly — Mari(; Moulin, you should say." 
" Well, in answering one of her mistress's ^{ueKtions, she said 
'oui, Madame."* 

" What would you have had her HJiy? — ' non, Ma<lame?"' 
" Hut why Madame at all? — "Why not Mademoiselle?" 
" It would be very vulgar to say ' Ves, Miss,' in English." 
*^ To ])() sure it would ; but it is very different in l<Veneh. Orjc 
can say — must say Mademoiselle to a young unmarried female 
in that laiiguag(;j though it be vulgar to say Miss, without the 
nauK!, in I^lnglish. 1^^'eneh, you know, Anna, is a much more 
preci«c language than our own; and those who 8peak it, do not 
take the liberties with it that wo take with the English. Madame 
always infers a married woman; unless, indeed, it bo with a wo- 
man a hundntd yciars old." 

" No I^'reneh woman is ever that, John — but it is odd that 
Marie Moulin, who so well understands the usages of her own 
little woild, should have said Madame to a demoiselle. IIav<; I 
not heard, n(;veilh(dess, that Marie's first salutalion, wh(;n sh( 



10 



13 



210 T II K W A V S () K I II K II () 11 |{. 

was mlinil.tod to <l»o ji;.'»ol, wivh n. slmpK^ cxcl.-inialion of ' M;ulo- 
luoisi'lUri' ' " 

" 'riint is vtM*y triio ; for 1 lu'iinl it luvscir. What is iiion 
(hat I'xclamalion was almost as nMiiarkaMc as lliis; iM-cnch s«. 
vants always aihlin^ Uio nanio uiul(>r surli ciirumstancos, imU ss 
tli(\y aro adilrossin^ tluMr own i>arti(ular mistresses. Madam 
iiiul Madmnoisollo, an* a|>i>r(>i»iia(('il to lliose thoy servo; while it 
is IMadeiiioist'lle this, or iMadanu> Ihal, to ('wvy one else." 

*' And now she ealls her JMndt'moi.'^cnc or JMiuUimr ! It ou\y 
|)rovi>s (hat too mueh importance is not to ho attaehed (o INlari 
Moulin's sayiiii^s and doings." 

" I 'm not so snro of that. JMarie has been three years in th 
eoniitry, as wo all know. Now the }'onni»; person that she lel'l a 
J\la<lr.mnisrllr. might very well \\,\\o beeoiiu^ a, JSlttdamc in that 
interval o'^ time. ^Vhen thi>y m(>t, Iho donu>stiii may havt' nsed 
the old and t'ainiliar term in lu'r snrprise ; or she may not have 
liiiown of the lady's marriage. AftiMwards, when there luul been 
li>isMR' for (Explanations betweiMi tluMo, she gave her mistress her 
propter ai)pi*llation." 

" l>0(>s sho habitually say JMadanu> now, in s}H\il;ing to this 
singnlar being T' 

" Uabilnally she is silent. Usually sho remains in the coll, 
when any one is with Miss — or Mrs. JMonson, perhaps I ought 
^,^, j.;jy" — John used this last term with a strong exj>ression of 
spite, which gavc^ his eompanion a snj^pressiHl but inlinite di-liglit 
— " but. wluMi any one is with the mistress, eall her what you 
will, the maid eommonly remains in the dungeon or cell. Owing 
to this, 1 have never been in the way of hearing the last, atldrcss 
the first, i«\ei'pt on the two oeeasions named. 1 confess I begin 
lo think '' 

" What, John?" 

" >Vhy, that our Miss Monsi>u may turn out to be a mavn«>l 
woman, after all.'' 



T II K W A V H () K T 11 K II O f II. 2 I I 

*•' Sho ih V(!ry y"ii»i;r, in kIk: 1101? AlmoHt Ino youn;^ <o U; a 

" Nol, nt, ull ! Wliaf, (]() yf)H call tof) yoiiri;.^ ? Sin; is b<;Uv(:or. 
t\Vf!nl,y Jiii'l iwcrify-Uvo or Ihrco. She may even be fAveiity-livc 
or nix." 

Anna ni/^liefJ, fJieii;.^li alino.s<> Iiri[terc;(;j)tihly l,o li(;ixelf; for l.lie.sc 
wore agos that well HuhcA }ir;r companion, tliou^rh the yoiin;.a;Ht 
oxccodod lior own by a twelvemonth. liiltlt- m'.ift, however, w;ih 
flMid on tho fiubjeot at tliafc intervi(;w. 

It in one of the Hingular cfTcctH of the paK.sion of love, more 
OHpccially with the ^';en(;rouH-min(J(;(] anfJ just of the female Hex, 
that a livfjly interest is often awakened in b(;half of a HiiccesHfiil 
or favoured rival. Such was now th(; fact an reganJs the i'mtVin'^ 
tli;it Anna (Jpfjyke be^^an to entertain towards Mary JMoiiHon. 
Tiic critical condition of the la(Jy would of itself excitxj intercKt 
where it failed to produce distrust; but, the circumstance that 
Jf)hn Wilmeter saw so much to admire in this unknown femah;, 
if he (li<l not actually love her, ^^ave her an im[>ort,anee in the 
eyes of Anna that at once elevated her int/j an ol^ject of the 
liij.diest interest. She was seized with the liveliest desire to see 
the accused, and began seriously to reflect on tlir; possibjlify of 
cjflecting such an end. No vulgar curiosity was mingled with 
this new-born purpose; but, in addition to the motives that were 
connected with John's state of mind, there was a benevolent and 
truly feiriinine wish, on the part of Anna, to be of service to one 
of her own sex, so cruelly plac(;d, and cut ofl", as it would seem, 
from all communication with those who should be her natural 
prote(;tors and advisers. 

Anna IJpdyko gathered, through that which liad fallen from 
VVilm(;tor and his sister, that the intercourse between the f(;rmr-.T 
and his interesting client had been of the most reserved character ; 
♦h(!r(;in showing a discn;tion and self-respect on the part of the 
prisoner, that spoke well for her education and delicacy. Il<jvi 



2\Z T II \<) W A '. ,-* (> 1'' I' II 10 II () II K. 

Buch a woiiiuii camo to be in the extraordinary position in wbijii 
hIio w:ih ])1;u'C(1, was of coiir.se as nmcli a mystery to her as to all 
olherM; thougli, like every one else who knew aui^^lit of the cane, 
nhc indulged in conjectures of her own on ilie subject. Jieing 
of a particularly natural and frank disposition, without a particle 
of anjr ungenerous or detracting quality, and filled with woman's 
kindness in her very soul, this noble-minded young woman began 
now lo liH'l far more llian an idle curiosily in behalf of her who 
had so lately caused herself so much pain, not to say bitterness 
of anguish. All was forgotten in pity for the miserable condition 
of the unconscious oti'ender; unconscious, for Anna was sufficiently 
clear-sighted and just to see and to admit that, if John had been 
led astray by the charms and suflerinJI of this stranger, the fact 
could not rightfully be imputed to the last, as a fault. Every 
statiMiuMit, of flolm's went to confinu this act of justice to the 
straiig(M-. 

Then, the unaccountable silence of Marie Moulin doubled the 
mystery and greatly increased the interest of the whole affair. 
This woman had gone to Bibcrry pledged to connnunicato to 
Sarah all she knew or might learn, touching the accused; and 
W(>11 <lid vVnna know that her friend would make her the re- 
pository of her own iiilormallon, on this as well as on other 
subjeets; but a most unnceountable silence governed the course 
of t he domestic, as well as that of her strange mistress, Tt really 
seemed that, in passing the principal door of tho gaol, IMaric 
Moulin had buried luM-si>lf in a convent, where all communication 
wi(l» the outiu- wtuld was forbidden. Three several letters from 
Sarah had ,Iohu handed in at the grate, certain that they must 
\\u\c vc:n']wd \]\c hands of the Swiss; but no answer had be(^n 
received. All attempts to speak to Marie were quietly, but most 
ingtMiiously evaded, by the tact and readiness of the prisoner; 
!\iid the hope of obtaining information from that source was 
abandoned by Sarah, who was too pnnid to solicit a servant fox 



T UK W A V H OK T 11 1£ II O U U. 2l 3 

that wliich tho last waH roluctant to coininunioato. Willi Ann:i 
tlio feeling WdH difToront. 8I10 liad no curioHlty on tlio Hul^jcct, 
soparuk'd from a ino.Mt gerK.TOus and womanly concern in the 
priHoner'H forlorn Htate; and hIic tliourrht far le.s.s of Marie 
Mouiin'K dinreHpeet and forge Ifnlties.s of her word, than of Mary 
Mouhou'h desolation and approaidiin^ tritiL 



214 THE WArS OF THE H O f If. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

Was it for this we sent out 
Liberty's cry from our shore? 
Was it for this that her shout 
Thrill'd to the world's very core? 

Moore's National Airs. 

The tliird day after the interviews just related, the whole pnrty 
left Rattletrap for Timbiillj, where their arrival was expected by 
the bride and bridegroom, if such terms can be applied to a wo- 
man of forty-five and a man of sixty. The Duke's county circuit 
and oyer and terminer were about to be held, and it was believed 
that Mary Monson was to be tried. By this time so lively an 
interest prevailed among the ladies of the McBrain and Dunscomb 
connections in behalf of the accused, that they had all come to a 
determination to be present in court. Curiosity was not so much 
at the bottom of this movement as womanly kindness and sym- 
pathy. There seemed a bitterness of misery in the condition of 
Mary Monson, that appealed directly to the heart ; and that silent 
but eloquent appeal was answered, as has jast been stated, gener- 
ously and with warmth by the whole party from town. With 
Anna Updyke the feeling went materially farther than with any 
of her friends. Strange as it may seem, her interest in John 
increased that which she felt for his mysterious client; and her 
feelings became enlisted in the stranger's behalf, so much the 
more, in consequence of this triangular sort of passion. 

The morning of the day on which the party crossed the country 
from Rattletrap to Timbully, Timms arrived at the latter plaxje. 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 



215 



He was expected, and was soon after closeted with the senior 
(iounsel in the pending and most important cause. 

"Does the District Attorney intend to move for the trial?" 
demanded Dunscomb, the instant the two were alone. 

" He tells me he does, sir ; and that early in the week, too. 
it is my opinion we should go for postponement. We are hardly 
ready, while the State is too much so.'' 

" I do not comprehend this, Timms. The law-officers of the 
public would hardly undertake to run down a victim, and she a 
: solitary and unprotected woman!" 

"That's not it. The law-officers of the State don't care a 
straw whether Mary Monson is found guilty or is acquitted. That 
s, they care nothing about it at present. The case may be diffiirent 
ivhen they are warmed up by a trial and opposition. Our danger 
3omes from Jesse Davis, who is a nephew of Peter Goodwin, 
his next of kin and heir, and who thinks a great deal of money 
was hoarded by the old people ; much more than the stocking 
ever held or could hold, and who has taken it into his wise head 
that the prisoner has laid hands on this treasure, and is carrying 
jn her defence with his cash. This has roused him completely, 
ind he has retained two of the sharpest counsel on our circuit, 
who are beginning to work as if the bargain has been clenched in 
the hard metal. Williams has given me a great deal of trouble 
already. I know him ; he will not work without pay ; but pay 
him liberally, and he is up to anything." 

" Ay, you are diamond cut diamond, Timms — outsiders in the 
profession. You understand that I work only in the open court, 
and will know nothing of this out-door management." 

" We do not mean to let you know anything about it, 'Squire," 
returned Timms, drily. "Each man to his own manner of 
getting along. I ought to tell you, however, it has got out that 
you are working without a fee, while I am paid in the most liberal 



216 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

" I am sorry for that. There is no great harm in the thing 
Itself; but I dislike the parade of seeming to be unusually gener- 
ous. I do not remember to have spoken of this circumstance 
where it would be likely to be repeated ; and I beg you will be 
equally discreet." 

" The fact has not come from me, I can assure you, sir. It 
puts me in too awkward a position to delight me ; and I make it 
a point to say as little as possible of what is disagreeable. I do 
not relish the idea of being thought selfish by my future consti- 
tuents. Giniros'ty is my cue before them. But they say you 
work for love, sir." 

" Love ! " answered Dunscomb, quickly — " Love of what ? — 
or of whom?'' 

" Of your client — that 's the story now. It is said that you 
admire Miss Monson; that she is young, and handsome, and 
rich; and she is to marry you, if acquitted. If found guilty 
and hanged, the bargain is off, of course. You may look dis- 
pleased, 'Squire; but I give you my word such is the ru- 
mour." 

Dunscomb was extremely vexed; but he was too proud to 
make any answer. He knew that he had done that which, among 
the mass of this nation, is a very capital mistake, in not placing 
before its observation an intelligible motive — one on the level 
of the popular mind — to prevent these freaks of the fancy deal- 
ing with his affairs. It is true, that the natural supposition would 
be that he worked for his fee, as did Timms, had not the contrary 
got out; when he became subject to all the crude conjectures of 
those who ever look for the worst motives for everything. Had 
he been what is termed a favourite public servant, the very reverse 
would have been the case, and there was little that he might not 
have done with impunity; but, having no such claims on the 
minds of the mass, he came under the common law which some- 
what distinguishes their control. Too much disgusted, however, 



TtlE WAYS OP THE HOUR. 



!1T 



to continue this branch of the subject, the worthy counsellor at 
once adverted to another. 

" Have you looked over the list of the jurors, Timms?" he 
demanded, continuing to sort his papers. 

*^ That I never fail to do, sir, the first thing. It 's my brief, 
you know, 'Squire Dunscomb. All safe York law, now-a-days, 
is to be found in that learned body ; especially in criminal cases. 
There is but one sort of suit in which the jury counts for nothing, 
and might as well be dispensed with.'' 

"Which is V 

*"' An ejectment cause. It 's not one time in ten that they un- 
derstand anything about the matter, or care anything about it ; 
and the court usually leads in those actions — but our Duke's 
county juries are beginning to understand their powers in all 
others." 

"What do you make of the list?" 

" It 's what I call reasonable, 'Squire. There are two men on 
it who would not hang Cain, were he indicted for the murder of 
Abel." 

" Quakers, of course ? " 

" Not they. The time was when we were reduced to the 
'thee's' and the Uhou's' for this sort of support; but philan- 
thropy is abroad, sir, covering the land. Talk of the school- 
master! — Why, 'Squire, a new philanthropical idee will go two 
feet to the schoolmaster's one. Pro-nigger, anti-gallows, eterual 
peace, woman's rights, the people's power, and anything of that 
sort, sweeps like a tornado through the land. Get a juror who 
has just come into the anti-gallows notion, and I would defy the 
State to hang a body-snatcher who lived by murdering his sub- 
jects." 

"And you count on two of these partisans for our case?" 

" Lord no, sir. The District Attorney himself knows them 
both ] and Davis's counsel have been studying that list for the 

10 



215 T li »•: W A Y S O F T II K II O U K. 

last week, as if it were l)lackstone in the hands of a new loginTux 
I can tell you, 'Squire Punscoinb, that the jury-list is a most im. 
portivut part of a case out here in the country V 

" I aui hhkIi afraid it is, Tinnns ; though I never cxamiuod 
one in n.y life." 

" I can believe you, sir, from Avhat 1 have seen of your prao 
tice. l>ut principles and facts won't answer in an age of the world 
when men are ruled by talk and prejudice. There is not a case 
of any magnitude tried, now-anlays, without paying proper atten- 
tion to the jury. We are pretty well off, on the whole; and I 
am tolerably sanguine of a disiigrcement, though I feai* an ac- 
quittal is quite out of the question." 

" You rely on one or two particularly intelligent and disinter- 
ested men, hal Timms T' 

" I rely on five or six particularly ignorant and heated partisans, 
on the contrary; — nien who have been reading about the abolish 
ing of capital punishments, and who in gin'ral, because they 've 
o-ot hold of some notions that have been worn out as far back as 

to 

the times of the Caesars, fancy themselves philosophers and the 
children of progress. The country is getting to be full of what I 
call donkeys and racers ; the donkey is obstinate, and backs going 
up hill ; while the racers will not only break their own necks, 
but those of their riders too, unless they hold up long before they 
reach their goal." 

" 1 did not know, Tiinms, that you think so much on such 
subjects. To me, you have always appeared to be. a purely work- 
ing-man — no theorist." 

" It is precisely because I am a man of action, and live in the 
world, and s:e things as they were meant to be seen, that I laugh 
at your theorists. Why, sir, this country, in my judgment, for 
tlui time being, could much better get along without preaching, 
than without hanging. I don't say always ; for there is no tclliu^ 
vet what is to be the upshot of preaching. It may turn out ji^ 



THE WAVH OF T II E 11 J U R. 2 1 1^ 

many think ; in which case human natur' will undergo a change 
that will pretty much destroy our business. Such a state of things 
would be worse for the bar, 'Sf^uire, than the Code, or the last 
fee-bill.'^ 

" I 'm not so sure of that, Tinims ; there are few things worse 
than this infernal Code/' 

" Well, to my taste, the fee-bill is the most disagreeable of the 
two. A man can stand any sort of law, and any sort of practice j 
but he can't stand any sort of pay. I hear the circuit is to be 
held by one of the new judges — a people's man, altogether.'^ 

" You mean by that, I suppose, Timms, one of those who did 
not hold oflSce under the old system ? It is said that the new 
broom sweeps clean — it is fortunate ours has not brushed away 
all the old incumbents." 

" No, that is to come ; and comq it will, as sure as the sun 
rises. We must have rotation on the bench, as well as in all 
other matters. You see, \Squire, rotation is a sort of claim with 
many men, who have no other. They fancy the earth to hav*. 
been created on a sort of Jim Crow principle, because i^ turns 
rou-nd." 

" That is it ; and it explains the clamour that is made about 
it. But to return to this jury, Timms; on the whole, you like 
it, I should infer?" 

" Not too well, by any means. There are six or eight names 
on the list that I 'm always glad to see ; for they belong to men 
who are friendly to me 

"Good God, man — it cannot be possible that you count on 
such assistants in a trial for a human life I" 

" Not count on it, 'Squire Dunscomb ! I count on it from an 
action of trespass on the case, to this indictment — count on it 
quite as much, and a good deal more rationally, than you count 
m your law and evidence. Didn't I carry that heavy case for 
the railroad company on that principle altogether ? The law wa? 



220 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

lead against us they say, and the facts were against us ; but the 
verdict was in our favour. That 's what I call practising law V 

" Yes ; I remember to have heard of that case, and it was 
always a wonder with the bar how you got along with it. Had 
it been a verdict against a corporation, no one would have thought 
anything of it — but to carry a bad case for a company, now-a- 
days, is almost an unheard-of thing.^' 

" You are quite right, sir. I can beat any railroad in the 
State, with a jury of a neighbourhood, let the question or facts 
be what they may ; but, in this instance, I beat the neighbour- 
hood, and all through the faith the jury had in me. It 's a blessed 
institution, this of the jury, ^Squire Dunscomb ! — no doubt it 
makes us the great, glorious, and free people that we are V 

" If the bench continue to lose its influence as it has done, the 
next twenty years will see it a curse of the worst character. It 
is now little more than a popular cabal in all cases in the least 
calculated to awaken popular feeling or prejudice." 

" There 's the rub in this capital case of ours. Mary Monson 
has neglected popularity altogether; and she is likely to suffer 
for it." 

" Popularity !" exclaimed Dunscomb, in a tone of horror — 
" and this in a matter of life and death ! What are we coming 
to in the law, as well as in politics ! No public man is to be 
found of sufficient moral courage, or intellectual force, to stem 
this torrent; which is sweeping away everything before it. But 
in what has our client failed, Timms?" 

" In almost everything connected with this one great point; 
and what vexes me is her wonderful power of pleasing, which is 
sompletely thrown away. * Squire Dunscomb, I would cairy this 
county for Free Sile or ag'in it, with that lady to back me, as a 
wife." 

"What, if she should refuse to resort to popular airs and 
giaces V 



T HE WAYS OF T HE II O LT R. 221 

" I mean, of course, she aiding and abetting. I would give 
the world, now, could we get the judge into her company foi 
half an hour. It would make a friend of him ; and it is still 
something to have a friend in the judge in a criminal case." 

"You may well say ^ still , Timms; how much longer it wih 
be po, is another matter. Under the old system it would be 
hopeless to expect so much complaisance in a judge ; but I will 
not take it on myself to say what a people's judge will not do." 

" If I thought the thing could be managed, by George I would 
attempt it ! The grand jurors visit the gaols, and why not the 
judges ? What do you think, sir, of an anonymous letter hinting 
to his honour that a visit to Mrs. Gott — who is an excellent 
urcature in her way — might serve the ends of justice !'' 

" As I think of all underhanded movements and trickery. No, 
no, Timms ; you had better let our client remain unpopular, than 
undertake anything of this nature." 

" Perhaps you are right, sir. Unpopular she is, and will be, 
as long as she pursues her present course ; whereas she might 
carry all classes of men with her. For my part, 'Squire Duns- 
comb, I Ve found this young lady" — here Timms paused, hem- 
med, and concluded by looking a little foolish — a character of 
countenance by no means common with one of his shrewdness 
and sagacity. 

" So, so. Master Timms," said the senior counsel, regarding 
the junior with a sort of sneer — " you are as great a fool as my 
nephew. Jack Wilmeter; and have fallen in love with a pretty 
face, in spite of the grand jury and the gallows !" 

Timms gave a gulp, seemed to catch his breath, and regained 
enough of his self-command to be able to answer. 

" I 'm in hopes that Mr. Wilmeter will think better of this, 
sir," he said, " and turn his views to a quarter where they will 
be particularly acceptable. It would hardly do for a young gen 
■Jeman of his expectations to take a wife out of a gaoL" 



222 VMK WAYS OV Tlll^ !I () U II. 

" Enough of this foolery, Timms, and come to the point. Yoiir 
remarks about popularity may have some sense in them, if matters 
have been pushed too far in a contrary direction. Of what do you 
complain ?" 

" In the first place, she will not show herself at the windows ; 
and that offends a great many persons, who think it proud and 
aristocratic in her not to act as other criminals act. Then, she 
has made a capital mistake with a leading reporter, who sent in 
his name, and desired an interview; which she declined granting. 
She will hear from that man, depend on it, sir." 

" I shall look to him, then — for, though this class of men ia 
fast putting the law under foot, it may be made to turn on them, 
})y one who understands it, and has the courage to use it. I shall 
not allow the rights of IMary Monson to be invaded by such a 
fungus of letters." 

" Fungus of letters ! Ahem — if it was anybody but yourself, 
'Sc^uirc, that I was talking to, I might remind you that these 
funguses flourish on the dunghill of the common mind." 

'' No matter ; the law can be made to touch them, when in 
good hands; and mine have now some experience. Hiia this 
reporter resented the refusal of the prisoner to see him?'' 

" He is squinting that way, and has got himself sent to Bibcrry 
by two or three journals, to report the progress of the trial. I 
know the man ; he is vindictive, impudent, and always uses his 
craft to indulge his resentments.'' 

** Ay, many of those gentry are up to that. Is it not surprising, 
Timms, that in a country for ever boasting of its freedom, men 
do not see how nmch abuse there is of a very important int(!rest^ 
in suffering these irresponsible tyrants to ride rough-shod over 
the community ?" 

<' Lord, 'Squire, it is not with the reporters only, that abuses 
'ire to be found. I was present, the other day, at a conversation 
between a judge and a great town lawyer, when the last deploied 



THE WAYS OF T ri E II o u u. 22.':! 

jiie state of the juries! 'What would you have?' says hie 
Honour; 'angels sent down from Heaven to fill the jury-boxes?' 
Waal" — Timms never could get over the defects of his early 
Rssociations — "Waal, 'Squire/' he continued, with a shrewd 
leer of the eyes, " I thought a few saints might be squeezed in 
between the lowest angel in Heaven and the average of our 
Duke's county pannels. This is a great fashion of talking that is 
growing up among us to meet an objection by crying out, 'men 
are not angels/ as if some men are not better than others." 

"The institutions clearly maintain that some men arc better 
than others, Timms!" 

" That 's news to me, I will own. I thought the institutions 
declared all men alike — that is, all white men ; I know that the 
niggers are non-suited." 

" They are unsuited, at least, according to the spirit of the in- 
stitutions. If all men are supposed to be alike, what use is there 
in the elections ? Why not draw lots for office, as we draw lots 
for juries ? Choice infers inequalities, or the practice is an absur- 
dity. But here comes McBrain, with a face so full of meaning, 
he must have something to tell us." 

Sure enough, the bridegroom-physician came into the room at 
that instant ; and without circumlocution he entered at once on 
the topic that was then uppermost in his mind. It was the custom 
of the neighbourhood to profit by the visits of this able practi- 
tioner to his country place, by calling on him for advice in such 
difficult cases as existed anywhere in the vicinity of Timbully. 
Even his recent marriage did not entirely protect him from these 
appeals, which brought so little pecuniary advantage as to be 
gratuitous; and he had passed much of the last two days in 
making professional visits in a circle around his residence that 
included Bibcrry. Such were the means by which he had ob- 
tained the information that now escaped from him, as it might 
be, involuntarily. 



224 1 H E WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

" I have uever known so excited a state of the public mind,** 
he cried, " as now exists all around Biberrj, on the subject of 
your client, Tom, and this approaching trial. Go where I may, 
see whom I will, let the disease be as serious as possible, all, 
patients, parents, friends and nurses, commence business with 
asking me what I think of Mary Monson, and of her guilt or 
innocence.'^ 

" That 's because you are married, Ned," — Dunscomb coolly 
answered — " Now, no one thinks of putting such a question to 
me. I see lots of people, as well as yourself; but not a soul has 
asked me whether I thought Mary Monson guilty or innocent.'* 

" Pph ! You are her counsel, and no one could take the liberty 
I dare say that even Mr. Timms, here, your associate, has never 
compared notes with you on that particular point." 

Timms was clearly not quite himself; and he did not look as 
shrewd as he once would have done at such a remark. He kept 
in the back-ground, and was content to listen. 

" I do suppose association with a brother in the law, and in a 
case of life and death, is something like matrimony, Dr. McBrain. 
A good deal must be taken for granted, and not a little on credit. 
As a man is bound to believe his wife the most excellent, virtuous, 
most amiable and best creature on earth, so is a counsel bound to 
consider his client innocent. The relation, in each case, is confi- 
dential, however ; and I shall not pry into your secrets, any more 
than I shall betray one of my own." 

" I asked for none, and wish none ; but one may express sur- 
prise at the intense degree of excitement that prevails all through 
Duke's, and even in the adjacent counties." 

^' The murder of a man and his wife in cold blood, accompa- 
nied by robbery and arson, are enough to arouse the community. 
In this particular case the feeling of interest is increased, I make 
uo doubt, by the extraordinary character, as well as by the singular 
nystery, of the party accused. I have had many clients, Ned, 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 225 

but never one like this before 3 as you have had many wives, but 
no one so remarkable as the present Mrs. McBrain/' 

"Your time will come yet, Master Dunscomb — recollect I 
have always prognosticated that/' 

" You forget that I am approaching sixty. A man's heart is 
as hard and dry as a bill in chancery at that age — but, I beg 
your pardon, Ned; you are an exception." 

" I certainly believe that a man can have affections, even at 
four-score — and what is more, I believe that when the reason and 
judgment come in aid of the passions " 

Dunscomb laughed outright; nay, he even gave a little shout, 
his bachelor habits having rendered him more exuberant in 
manner than might otherwise have been the case. 

"Passions!" he cried, rubbing his hands, and looking round 
for Timms, that he might have some one to share in what he 
regarded as a capital joke. " The passions of a fellow of three- 
score ! Ned, you do not flatter yom'self that you have been 
marrying the Widow XJpdyke in consequence of any passion you 
feel for her?" 

" I do, indeed," returned the Doctor, with spirit ; mustering 
resolution to carry the war into the enemy's country — "Let mo 
tell you, Tom Dunscomb, that a warm-hearted fellow can love a 
woman dearly, long after the age you have mentioned — that is, 
provided he has not let all feeling die within him, for want of 
watering a plant that is the most precious boon of a most gTacious 
Providence." 

" Ay, if he begin at twenty, and keep even pace with his be- 
'oved down the descent of time." 

" That may all be true; but, if it has been his misfortune to 
Io3e one partner, a second " 

" And a third, Ned, a third — why not foot the bill at once, 
us they say in the market?" 

" Well, a third, too, if circumstances make that demand on 



226 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

liiin. Anything is better than leaving the affections to stagnate 
for want of cultivation." 

^^ Adam in Paradise, by Jove ! — But, I '11 not reproach you 
again, since you have got so gentle and kind a creature, and one 
who is twenty years your junior " 

" Only eighteen, if you please, Mr. Dunscomb." 

" Now, I should be glad to know whether you have added those 
two years to the bride's age, or subtracted them from that of 
the bridegroom ! I suppose the last, however, as a matter of 
course." 

" I do not well see how you can suppose any such thing, know- 
ing my age as well as you do. Mrs. McBrain is forty-two, an 
age when a woman can be as loveable as at nineteen — more so, 
if her admirer happens to be a man of sense. '^ 

" And sixty-two. Well, Ned, you are incorrigible ; and, foi 
the sake of the excellent woman who has consented to have you, 
I only hope this will be the last exhibition of your weakness. 
So they talk a good deal of Mary IMonson, up and down tli'j 
cnmtry, do they ?" 

" Of little else, I can assure you. I am sorry to say, the tide 
Bocms to be setting strongly against her.'' 

" That is bad news; as few jurors, now-a-days, are superior to 
Buch an influence. What is said, in particular. Dr. McBrain ? — 
lu the way of facts, I mean?'' 

^' One report is that the accused is full of money ; and that a 
good deal of that which she is scattering broad-cast has been 
■icen by different persons, at different times, in the possession of 
the deceased Mrs. Goodwin." 

" Let them retail that lie, far and near, 'Squire, and we '11 turn 
it to good account," said Timms, taking out his note-book, and 
VTriting down what he had just heard. " I have reason to think 
that every dollar Miss Monson has uttered since her confine 
ment " 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 227 

" Imprisonment would be a better word, Mr. Timms," inter- 
rupted tlie Doctor. 

"I see no great difference/' replied the literal attorney — 
" but imprisonment, if you prefer it. I have reason to think that 
every dollar Mary Monson has put in circulation since she entered 
the gaol at Biberry, has come from either young Mr. Wilmcter 
or myself, in exchange for hundred-dollar notes — and, in one in- 
stance, for a note of five hundred dollars. She is well off, I can 
tell you, gentlemen j and if she is to be executed, her executor 
will have something to do when all is over.'' 

"You do not intend to allow her to be hanged, Timms?"' 
demanded McBrain, aghast. 

" Not if I can help it. Doctor ; and this lie about the money, 
when clearly disproved, will be of capital service to her. Let 
them circulate it as much as they please, the rebound will be 
in proportion to the blow. The more they circulate that foolish 
rumour, the better it will be for our client when we come to 
trial." 

"I suppose you are right, Timms; though I could prefer 
plainer dealings. A cause in which you are employed, however, 
must have more or less of management." 

Which is better, 'Squire, than your law and evidence. But 
what else has Dr. McBrain to tell us?" 

"I hear that Peter Goodwin's nephew, who it seems had some 
expectations from the old people, is particularly savage, and leaves 
no stone unturned to get up a popular feeling against the ac- 
cused." 

" He had best beware," said Dunscomb, his usually colourless 
but handsome face flushing as he spoke. " I shall not trifle in a 
matter of this sort — ha! Timms?" 

" Lord bless you, 'Squire, Duke's county folks wouldn't under- 
stand a denial of the privilege to say what they please in a ease 
of this sort They fancy this is liberty; and 'toucli my honour, 



228 T II E W A Y S O F Til K HOUR. 

take your poker/ is uot more sensitive than the feelin' of liberty 
ill these parts. I 'm afraid that not only this Joe Davis, but the 
reporters, will say just what they please ; and Mai-y Monsou'a 
rights will whistle for it. You will remember that our judge ia 
not only a bran-new one, but he drew the two years' term into 
the bargain. No, I think it will be wisest to let the law, and 
old principles, and the right, and true liberty, quite alone; and 
to bow the knee to things as they are. A good deal is said about 
our fiithers, and their wisdom, and patriotism, and sacrifices; 
but nobody dreams of doing as they did, or of reasoning as they 
reasoned. Life is made up, in reality, of these little matters in 
a corner ; while the great principles strut about in buckram, for 
men to admire them, and talk about them. I do take considerable 
delight, 'Squire Dunscomb, in hearing you enlarge on a principle, 
whether it be in law, morals, or politics ; but I should no mure 
think of pracf^ing on 'em, than I should think of refusing a 
thousand dollar fee." 

''Is that your price?" demanded McBrain, with curiosity 
— " Do you work for as large a sum as that, in this case, 
Timms?" 

"I'm paid. Doctor; just as you was" — the attorney never 
stuck at grammar — "just as you was for that great operation on 
the AVall-Street Millenary'ian " 

" Millionaire, you mean, Timms," said Dunscomb, coolly — 
"it means one worth a million." 

" I never attempt a foreign tongue but I stumble," SJiid the 
attorney, simply; for he knew that both his friends were familiar 
vdth his origin, education, and advancement in life, and that it 
was wisest to deny nothing to them ; " but since I have been so 
much with Mary Monson and her woman, I do own a desire to 
speak the language they use." 

Again Dunscomb regarded his associate int<3ntly; somethinf^ 
uomical gleaming in his eye. 



THE WAYS OF T JI E HOUR. 2'?9 

"TiinmS; you have fallen in love with our handsome client/^ 
he quietly remarked. 

" No, sir ; not quite as bad as that, yet ; though I will ao 
knowledge that the lady is vei-y interesting. Should she be 
acquitted, and could we only get some knowledge of her early 
history — why, that might put a new face on matters.*' 

" I must drive over to Biberry in the morning, and have an- 
)ther interview with the lady myself. And now, Ned, I will join 
your wife, and read an epithalamium prepared for this great oc- 
casion. You need not trouble yourself to follow, the song being 
no novelty; for I have read it twice before on your account." 

A hearty laugh at his own wit concluded the discourse on the 
part of the great York counsellor; though Timms remained some 
time longer with the Doctor, questioning the latter touching 
opinions and facts gleaned by the physiuiim in the courae of liia 
oircoit. 



loO T II K AV A Y S U F THE 11 O D 



CHAPTER XIV. 

" From his brimstone bed at break of day, 
A walking- the devil is gone, 
To visit his httle snug farm of tlic cartli, 
And see how his stock went on." 

_ Coleridge. 

DuNSCOMB was as good as his word. Next morning he was on 
his way to Biberrj. He was thoughtful ; had laid a bundle of 
[)apcrs on the front seat of the carriage, and went his way musing 
and silent. Singularly enough, his only companion was Anna 
Updyke, who had asked a seat in the carriage timidly, but with 
an earnestness that prevailed. Had Jack Wilmeter been at 
Biberry, this request would not have been made ; but she knew 
he was in town, and that she might make the little excursion 
without the imputation of indelicacy, so far as he was concerned. 
Her object will appear in the com-se of the narrative. 

The "best tavern'^ in Biberry was kept by^ Daniel Horton. 
The wife of this good man had a native propensity to talk that 
had been essentially cultivated in the course of five-and-twenty 
years' practice in the inn where she had commenced her career 
as maid ; and was now finishing it as mistress. As is common 
with persons of her class, she knew hundreds of those who fre- 
quented her house ; calling each readily by name, and treating 
every one with a certain degree of professional familiarity that is 
hv from uncommon in country inns. 

" Mr. Dunscomb, I declare ! " cried this woman, as she entered 
the room, and found the counsellor and his companion in posses- 
sion of her best parlour. " This is a pleasure I did not expect 



THE WAY S OF THE 11 O UR. 231 

nntil the circuit. It's quite twenty yciirs, 'Squire, since 1 had 
the pleasure of first waiting on you in this house. And a plca- 
Burc it has always been; for I\e not forgotten the ejectment 
suit that you carried for Horton when we was only new-beginners. 
I am glad to see you, sir ; welcome to Biberry, as is this young 
lady, who is your daughter, I presume, Mr. Dunscomb ? " 

" You forget that I am a bachelor, IMrs. Horton — no marry- 
ing man, in any sense of the word/' 

"I might have known that, had I reflected a moment; for 
they say Mary Monson employs none but bachelors and widowerd 
in her case ; and you are her counsel, I know." 

" This is a peculiarity of which I was not aware. Timms is a 
bachelor, certainly, as well as myself; but to whom else can you 
allude ? Jack Wilmeter, my nephew, can hardly be said to be 
employed at all; nor, for that matter, Michael Millington; though 
neither is married.'' 

" Yes, sir ; we know both of the last well, they having lodged 
with us. If young Mr. Wilmeter is single, I fancy it is not his 
own faul*" — here Mrs. Horton looked very wise, but continued 
talking — " Young gentlemen of a good appearance and hand- 
some fortunes commonly have not much difficulty in getting 
wives — not as much as young ladies; for you men make the 
law, and you give your own sex the best chance, almost as a 
matter of course " 

'' Pardon me, Mrs. Horton," interrupted Dunscomb, a little 
formally, like one who felt great interest in the subject — "you 
were remarking that we have the best chance of getting married ; 
and here have I been a bachelor all my life, trying in vain to 
enter into the happy state of matrimony — if, indeed, it deserve 
to be so termed." 

••'It could not be very difficult for you to find a companion," 
paid the landlady, shaking her head ; " and for the reason I hnve 
jusfc given." 



2;il} T II K W A \ N t> K r II K II O I H, 

'* That vou iiuMi liavo matlo the laws ami pn^lit by llioin. Il;;* 
.\\n <tsk' Nvhom vou i^loasi' ; but a woman is (>Mi;!,vil to wait to bo 
askivl." 

'* \ lUi novorworo in a ^roator mistako in voiir liri\ I lio assuit) 
y.Mi, luy gxHul Mrs. Uortou. Thoiv is no sni'li law on tlio snbjoot. 
Any woman may \n\t tho i|nostion, ns woll as any man, Thinf 
iraa tlio law. aiul I ilon't think (ho (\h1o has ihanuoil it." 

'* Yos, 1 know that woll onini;:;h, and j^ot laui'-lunl at, aiul 
jHuntod at, for hor pains. I know that a ginnl iloal is said abont 
loap-yoar; but who over hoard of a woman's jnittini; tho qnos- 
tion 1^ 1 lanoy that ovon Mary Monson woidd think twioo before 
kIio tc>ok so bold a slop oiii'o." 

'* Mary .Monson!" o\olain\od Piinsoonib, suddenly tiuninji; to- 
wards his hostoss — " Has sho a reputation for boino- attontivo to 
pMitlomou '. ' ' 

'^Not that 1 know o['; but " 

*' Then allow mo \o say, my ^ihhI Mrs. llorton," intorruptod 
tho oi^lobratod oounsollor, with a manner that was almost anstoi\>, 
'• that you have been greatly to bhune in ha/.avding- the sort of 
remark you did. If yon knoir nothing of the eharaeter you cer- 
tainly insinuated, you should have said nothini!;. It is very 
extraonlinary that wvunen, alive as they must be io the eonse- 
quenees to one y>( their invn sex, are ever nunv ready than nu^u 
io throw out eareless, and frecpiently malieious hints, that tako 
nway a reputation, and do a melaneholy anunmt of harm in tlio 
world. Slander is the least respeetable, the most unehristian- 
Hke. and the most unlady-like vice, of ull the seeondarv sins of 
your sex. (^ue would think the dangin* yon are all exposed to in 
etunuuui. wouKl teaeh you greater eaution." 

" Yes, sir, that is true; but this Mary Monson is in sueh n 
pickle already, that it is not easy to make her ease much woi>e,'' 
inswered Mrs. llort(>u. a good deal frightened at the austerity of 



1 II K WAV H <j I- I II h Ji o i; Jt. 238 

lhiii:^A'j)in]/n r<;biiko; for }jI;s rf^putation w.'ih too high to rcnfJci 
hiH good or b;i/l opinion a rnattor of indifForonw t^j her. " If 
you only know the lialf that is naid of her in iJukc'.s, }'oii 
wouldn't mind a caroloHH word or m about hor. ]jVcrybody 
thinJ^H }jor guilty; and a crime, more or ](-/r,H, can be of no great 
matter to the likcH of Iter." 

"Ah, MrH. Ilortori, thcBC careleBS words do a va;st deal of 
h.irm. 'J'hey inHiniuit<i away a reputation in a breath; and rny 
experience has biugljt nje tijat tliey who are the most apt to um 
them, are perHons whone own conduct will leant bear the liglit. 
Women with a whole log-heap of beams in their own eyes, are 
remarkable for discovering motes. Give me the female who 
floats along quietly in her sphere, urjoffending and charitable^ 
\vl:-}iing frjr the best, and as difficult t/> be brought i/j think as to 
do (■/:]]. Jiut, they talk a good deal against my client, do they?^' 

" More than I have ever known folks talk against any indicted 
f<erson, man or woman. The prize-fight^^rs, who were in for 
i/jurder, had a pretty hard time of it; but nothing to Mary Mon- 
hon's. in short, until \Squire Tirnrns came out in her favour, 
bhc ha/1 no chance at all." 

" This is not very encouraging, certainly — but what is said. 
Mrs. Jlortfjn, if you will suffer me to put the question?'' 

" Why, 'Squire Dunscomb," answered the woman, pursing up 
a very pretty American mouth of her own, " a body is never sure 
that you won't call what she says slander " 

" Poh — jKjh — ^you know me better than that. I never meddle 
with that vile class of suits. I am employed to defend Mary 
Monson, you know " 

"Yes, and are well paid for it t/>o, 'Squire Dun;-;eomb, if all 
tliat a body hears is true," interrupted .^Ir:s. llorton, a little 
^pit<;fuily. " Five thousand dolhirs, they say, to a cent !" 

JJunscouib, who was working literally without other reward 
liian the consciousness of doing U'k duty, smiled, while he frownwi 



2.'l i Til v: \v A \ s (1 1." r 111', nor k. 

Hf {\\\i^ Wc^U iii.slMiu'o of (ln> ;il)surtliti(>s into wliirh nuuDiir vuL 
load ils vtWarios. .Howiii';- a lidlo ai>()lou;y, he coolly lightcil a 
t*(\i>;:ir, and pnuvodcd. 

" \\'luM-o is it supposed llinl Mary iMoumhi can liiul suoli lavj^o 
f^mns lo boslow, Mrs. lldrlon'/" lio (piii'llv aslu'd, wlirn liis si^^aT 
\vas[)roporly li^litinl. "It is not usual lor youuL!; and rri(MidK>r> 
wouu'M lo have pockets so woll lined." 

" Nor i^ il usual for youu<;- wcnutMi lo rob and nuu"dor oV\ onof', 
'S(|uiro." 

" Was Mrs. (Joodwin's slcH'king thought io he large (Miongh fo 
hold sums like that you have uuMilionod "/" 

'* Nobody knov.s. (u)ld iaki's but litth* r(M>ni, as witnosii 
(\alirorny. Thoro was (iiMUMal Willon — ovtM-y one Ihonghl him 
rieh as ("'swsar " 

" l>o you not nu\ui (^\osns, Mrs. llorlouT' 

"Well, Cjvsar or (^-u^sns ; both ayimv rich, I do suppo.so, and 
(iou(M"al Wilbni was thought the (Mpial of oithin*; but, when ho 
iliod, his ostato wouldn't pay his ihdits. On tho other hand, t)ld 
Daw Pavidsou was si^t down by nobody at. uioro than twenty 
thousand, and ho left ton times that much money. 80 I say no- 
body knows. Mrs. Ooodwin was always a saving woman, though 
IVtorwoidd nvako tho dollars fly, if ho could got at Ihom. There 
was eintainlv a weak spot in IVter, tho\igh known to but a very 
fow." 

Punseomb now listened attenti\ely. Every faet of this nature 
was o( iniportauee just then ; atul nothing eonld be said of tho 
nnudenHl t'ouple that woidd wot indnei^ all engaged in the eausc 
to ju-iek up their oai-s. 

" 1 have always uiiderstoinl that IVter Ciooilwin was a very 
respeetablo sort o( a u\au," observed Pnnseonib, with a profinuni 
knowledge of human uatmv, which w^as far more likely to indnoi; 
tho woman io bo oommuuieative, in tho way of opposition, than 
hy a.ny other pi\)coss — '* as respeetable a man as any about Lerc.' 



T If K WAV H () V I f( K M O I' li, 2''«! 

'^ Ho li'; »riip;ljfc bf;, but, he Um] IiIh wonk points /')« woH <'i« otljc; 
rcHpcctalJ': rr>f;ri ; Ujougfi, an J have »aid alrca/]y, hiH'n wa^en'* 
generally known. Kvorybo^ly in ri:H])('/±ihh, 1 »ijpfK>«w, tirjtil 
tbcy Vo fourifl out. But, J^;t/;r h <h'M'\ uw] gf/ric, and I have no 
winb to 'liHturb hiH pravo, y/bicli I ]><;]](:•/(-. to bo a Hinful act." 

'I'hi.H Hoiindod Htill morr; orninounly, and it greatly incrwiHcd 
I)uriH(;f)inb'H doHiro to Icani more. Htill ho naw that great caution 
niiiMt be used, Mr«. IIort/>Ti ehrK;King f/> afTeet mueh t/indenie;^ 
for }if;r dcceaHcd nciglibour'H cliarfi/;t/;r. Tlje c^^juriHellw know 
hufnan nature well enough to bo aware that indiflTorenf;^; wan 
HorrietirneH as goofl a Htjinub'int aH opjKjHJtion ; and lie now thought 
it exjKiflient to try the virtue of that quality. Without making 
any irrirnodiat/O annwer, therefore, he denired the att/;ntivo and 
unxiouH Anna IJpdyke U) perfonn Home little offir^e for Ijim; thuH 
managing to get h(;r out of the room, wfiilo the honU'^m Ktayod 
jjoliiri'l. 'i'lien bin Hogar did not <{fuU; nrjit hirn, and he tried an- 
other, making divern little delayn that net the landlady on the 
t/(;nter-hooks of impatience. 

" Yc«, Peter is gone — dead and buried — and J hope the nod 
lie.H lightly on hisremainHP' Hhc Haid, Highing OHt^mt^atiouHly. 

"'I'herein you are miHtaken, Mr». ifort/m," the (y^unnellor 
;oolIy remarked — "the remainn of neither of tho,«/; found in tfio 
ruiri:^, of the housfj are under ground yet; biit are kept for the 
trial.'^ 

" What a time wo Bhall have of it I — ko exciting and full of 
myHtery I" 

" An'] yon might add ^cuHt^mi,' Mrs. Ilortf^n. 1'ho n;port/;rH 
uirjnc, who will certainly come from t/;wn like an inrond of Cok- 
liackK, will fill your houB^;," 

" Yv,H, and themselveH too. To be lionent with you, 'H/juire 
DunHcomb, t<i0 many of those gentry wish to be kej.t for nothing 
fo make them ploas«ant boarders. I dare say, however, we shall 
be full enough next week. I Hometimos wish there wrirt no 



'ilHi T II K W A V S O i-' T li 10 II () IJ U. 

hucli Uiing a.s justice, ari<!r :i h.-iid-worklui^ Oyer and 'IVnniiiei 
c«)urt." 

'' You nliould l)c under no concern, my good Mrs. Ilorton, on 
that, siil)jeet. There is really ho little of the thing you have nieu- 
ti(»iuMl, that no reasonalde woman need make herBeli" unhappy 
about it. So Peter (Joodwin was a faultless man, was her"' 

" As far from it as possible, if the truth was said of him ; and 
seeing the man is not absolutely under ground, I do not know 
wiiy it may not be; told. T can respect tiu; grave, as well as an- 
other; but, as he is not })uric!d, one may tell the truth. Peter 
(Joodwin was, by no nujans, the man he secinuid to be." 

^Mn what j»artieulaT did he fail, my good IMrs. Ilorton?** 

To bo good in Dunscomb's eyes, the landlady well knew, was 
a great honour; and she was flattered as much by the manner in 
which the words were uttered, as by their import. Wtunan-likc, 
JMis. Ilorton was overcome by this little bit of homage; and she 
felt disposed to give up a secret which, to do her justice, had 
been religiously kept now for some ten or twelve years between 
herself and her husband. As she and the counsel were alone, 
dropping hc^r voice a little, nunc for the sake of aj)jK'arances tlian 
for any sulhcient reason, the hmdlady j>roceeded. 

" Why, you must know, 'Sciuire Dunscomb, that l*eter liood- 
win was a mend)cr of meetin', and a professing Christian, whi'.'h 
I sujipose was all the better for liim, seeing that he was to bo 
murdered." 

''And do you consider his being a '])rofessing i-hristian,' as 
y(>u call it, a circumstance to be concealed?'' 

" Not at all, sir — but I consider it a good reason why the facts 
1 am about to tell yon, ought not to be generally known. Scoftcra 
abound ; and I take it that the feelings of a believer ought to be 
rrcalcd inorc^ lendcrly than those of an unbeliever, for (hechurcii'fc' 
:Hake." 

"That is a fashion i>f i\\v. linics too — one of the ways of the 



T II E WAV S O F T HE HOUR. 237 

hour, wlictlicr it is to last or not. But, proceed if you please 
iny good Mrs. Ilorton ; I am quite curious to know by what 
particulai sin Satan managed to overcome this ' professing Chris- 
tian?"' 

"He drank', 'Squire Dunsconib — no, he ^wz^/erf, fur that is 
the bewt word. You must know that Dolly was avarice itself — 
that's the jeason she took this Mary Monson in to board, though 
her house -was no ways suited for boarders, standing out of the 
way, with only one small spare bed-room, and that under the 
roof. Had bhe lot this stranger woman come to one of the re- 
gular houses, ;is she might have done, and been far better accom- 
modated than it was possible for her to be in a garret, it is not 
likely she would have been murdered. She lost her life, as I tell 
1 f orton, for meddling with other people's business." 

" If such were the regular and inevitable punishment of that 
particular offence, my good landlady, there would be a great 
dearth of ladies," said Tom Dunscomb, a little drily — " but, you 
were remarking that Peter Goodwin, the member of meeting, and 
Mary Monson's supposed victim, had a weakness in favour of 
strong liquor?" 

" Juleps were his choice — I 've heard of a part of the country, 
somewhere about Virginny, I believe it is, where tee-totallera 
make an exception in favour of juleps — it may do there, 'Squire 
Dunscomb, but it won't do here. No liquor undoes a body, in 
this part of the country, sooner than mint juleps. I will find 
you ten constitutions that can hold out ag'in brandy, or plain 
grog, or even grog, beer and cider, all three together, where you 
can find me one that will hold out ag'in juleps. 1 always set 
down a reg'lar julep fancier as a case — that is, in this part of 
the country." 

" Very true, my good landlady, and very sensibh) and just. 1 
consider you a sensible and just woman, whose mind iiau been 
enlarged by an extensive ac(]uaiutance with human nature " 



'J.T8 T II K VV A V H (> F T II !0 II () IJ R, 

" A body docs j>ick up u ^^ood dual in and around a bar, 'Sipiiro 
Duiiscoui!) !" 

" I'ick up, indeed — 1 'vo laiown 'em picked up hy tlie (k)zci] 
niysc^ir. 7\i>d Peter wnuld lak(! tlu; jule[).s ?" 

"7\\v('ully fond of them! lie no more darcnl to tuk(! one at 
lioiue, liovvevcH", than he dared to go and ask JMiiiister Watch to 
make him one. No, he know'd bettcu* wli<!re the riglit sort of 
artiek; was to be had, and al\v;iys came down to our house when 
lie was (by. Iloiton mixes still", or, we sh(»uUl have been a good 
deal better oil" in the world than we ;ire — not that we're mis'ni- 
ble, as it is. I>ut Ilorton takes it strong himself, and he mixes 
strong Ibr oth(>rs. l*eter soon found this out, and he fancied his 
jule|)S more, :is Ik; h;is oftiiu told nu; himseH", th;in the juleps of 
tiui great IJowery-man, who has a naiiui for 'em, far and n(!ar. 
Ilorton tan mix a julep, if he can do nothing else." 

"And i'eter Goodwin was in the habit of frequenting your 
house j)rivately, to indulge this propensity." 

'M 'm almost ashamed to own that he did — perhaps it was 
sinful in ns io let him ; but a body must carry out the idee 
of (rade — our trade is tavern-keeping, and it 's (mr busin(>ss to 
mi\ kKpiors, though IMiuistcr Watch says, almost every Sabbath, 
that professors should do nothing out of sight that they wouldn't 
do before! tbe whohi congregation. .1 don't hold to that, however* 
S)r it would soon break up tavern-keeping altogether. Yes, l*etei 
did drink awfully, in a. corner." 

"To into.xication, do you mean, JMrs. Ilorton i"' 

" To delirrum trennis, sii*— yes, full up to that. ]lis way was 
to coiiu' down to tlu> village on the })reten('e of business, and t< 
come right, to our house, where I've known him to take thre^ 
jul(>ps in the lirst half-hour. Sometimes he'd pretend to go t( 
town to si'C his sister, when he would stay two or threc> days up- 
stairs in a room that Ilorton keeps for what he calls his caf^cs — he 
h'l^ given the room the nameof hisirrrn/ — hospital-ward he means *' 



THE WAYS O K T UK JI () U II. Zob 

^^ Is tlie wort-liy Mr. IRrton a mcmLcr of tlio nieet'mg also, 
my good landlady?" 

Mrs. Ilorton had the grace to colour; but she answered with 
out fitaiiiincriiig, habit fortifying us in moral discrepancies- much 
more serious than even this. 

" lie was, and I don't know but I may say he is yet ; though 
he hasn't attended, now, for more than two years. The question 
got to be between meetin* and the bar ; and the bar carried the 
day, so far as Ilorton is concerned. I 've held out bettor, I hope, 
and expect to gain a victory. It \s quite enougii to have one 
backslider in a family, I tell my husband, 'Squire." 

" A suificient supply, ma'am — quite a sufficiency. So Peter 
jloodwin lay in your house drunk, days at a time?" 

" I 'm sorry to say he did. He was here a week once, with 
delirrum tremus on him; but Ilorton carried him through by 
the use of juleps; for that's the time to take 'era, everybody 
says; and we got him home without old Dolly's knowing that he 
ladn't been with his sister the whole time. That turn satisfied 
l^eter for three good months." 

" Did Peter pay as he went, or did you keep a score ?" 

" Heady money, sir. Catch us keeping an account with a man 
when his wife ruled tiie roast ! No, Peter paid like a king, for 
every moiitliful ho swallowed." 

" I am far from certain that the comparison is a good one, 
kings being in no degree remarkable for paying their debts. But, 
Is it not possible that Peter may have set his own house on lire, 
cind thus have caused all this calamity, for which my client is 
held responsible?" 

" 1. 've thought that over a good deal since the murder, 'Squire, 
but don't well see how it can be made out. Setting the building 
on fire is simple enough ; but who killed the old couple, and who 
r')bbcd the house, unless this Mary Monson did both?" 

" The case has its difficulties, no doubt • but I have known the 



240 THE MAYS OF THE HOUR. 

day to dawn after a darker night than this. I believe that Mrs. 
Goodwin and her husband were very nearly of the same height?'* 

" Exactly ; I 've seen them measure, back to back. He was a 
^'cry short man, and she a very tall woman ! '' 

" Do you know anything of a German female who is said to 
have lived with the unfortunate couple?'' 

" There has been some talk of su(3h a person since the fire ; 
but Dolly Goodwin kept no help. She was too stingy for that; 
then she had no need of it, being very strong and stirring for her 
time of life." 

" Might not a boarder, like Miss Monson, have induced her to 
take this foreigner into her family for a few weeks ? The nearest 
neighbours, those who would be most likely to know all about it, 
say that no wages were given ; the woman working for her food 
and lodging." 

"'Squire Dunscomb, you'll never make it out that any Ger- 
man killed Peter and his wife." 

" Perhaps not; though even that is possible. Such, however, 
is not the object of my present enquiries — but, here comes my 
associate counsel, and I will take another occasion to continue 
this conversation, my good Mrs. Horton." 

Timms entered with a hurried air. For the first time in his 
life he appeared to his associate and old master to be agitated. 
Cold, calculating, and cunning, this man seldom permitted him- 
self to be so much thrown off his guard as to betray emotion ; 
but now he actually did. There was a tremor in his form that 
extended to his voice ; and he seemed afraid to trust the latter 
even in the customary salutations. Nodding his head, he drew a 
chair and took his seat. 

"You have been to the gaol?" asked Dunscomb. 

A nod was the answer. 

"You were admitted, and had an interview with our client?' 

Nod the third was the only reply. 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 241 

" Did you put the questions to her, as I desired ?'' 

" I did, sir ; but I would sooner cross-examine all Duke's, tlian 
andertake to get anything she does not wish to tell, out of that 
one young lady!" 

" I fancy most young ladies have a faculty for keeping such 
matters to themselves as they do not wish to reveal. Am I to 
understand that you got no answers?" 

" I really do not know, 'Squire. She was polite, and obliging, 
and smiling — but, somehow or other, I do not recollect her re* 
plies." 

" You must be falling in love, Timms, to return with such an 
account," retorted Dunscomb, a cold but very sarcastic smile 
passing over his face. "Have a care, sir; 'tis a passion that 
makes a fool of a man sooner than any other. I do not think 
there is much danger of the lady's returning your flame ; unless, 
indeed, you can manage to make her acquittal a condition of the 
match." 

" I am afraid — dreadfully afraid, her acquittal will be a very 
desperate affair," answered Timms, passing his hands down his 
face, as if to wipe away his weakness. " The deeper I get into 
the matter, the worse it appears!" 

" Have you given our client any intimation to this effect ?" 

^^ I hadn't the heart to do it. She is just as composed, and 
calm, and tranquil, and judicious — yes, and ingenious, as if she 
were only the counsel in this affair of life and death ! I couldn't 
diitrust so much tranquillity. I wish I knew her history !" 

^- My interrogatories pointed out the absolute necessity of her 
furnishing us with the means of enlightening the court and jury 
on that most material point) should the worst come to the worst." 

" I know they did, sir ; but they no more got at the truth than 
my own pressing questions. I should like to see that lady on the 
stand, above all things ! I think she would bother saucy Williams, 
and fairly put him out of countenance. By the way, sir, I licai 

11 



242 T H E W AYS O F T HE HOUR. 

he is employed against us by the ncplicw, who is quite furious 
about the loss of the money, which he pretends was a much 
larger sum than the neighbourhood has commonly supposed," 

" I have always thought the relations would employ some one 
to assist the public prosecutor in a case of this magnitude. Tlie 
theory of our government is that the public virtue will see the 
laws executed j but, in my experience, Timms, this public virtue 
is a very acquiescent and indifferent quality, seldom troubling 
it.sclf even to abate a nuisance, until its own nose is offended, or 
its own pocket damaged." 

" Roguery is always more active than honesty — I found that 
out long since, 'Squire. But, it is nat'ral for a public prosecutor 
not to press one on trial for life, and the accused a woman, closer 
than circumstances seem to demand. It is true, that popular 
feeling is strong ag'in Mary Monson ; but it was well in the ne- 
phew to fee such a bull-dog as Williams, if he wishes to make a 
clean sweep of it." 

"Does our client know this?'' 

" Certainly ; she seems to know all about her case, and has a 
strange pleasure in entering into the mode and manner of her 
defence. It would do your heart good, sir, to see the manner in 
which she listens, and advises, and consults. She 's wonderful 
handsome at such times!" 

" You are in love, Timms ; and I shall have to engage some 
other assistant. First Jack, and then you ! Umph ! This is a 
Rtrange world, of a verity." 

*^ I don't think it's quite as bad with me as that," said Timms, 
this time rubbing his shaggy eye-brows as if to ascertain whether 
or not he were dreaming, " though I must own I do not feel pre- 
cisely as I did a month since. I wish you would see our client 
yourself, sir, and make her understand how important it is 
to her interest that we should know something of her pa^t hLs- 
tory." 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 243 

" Do you think her name is rightfully set forth in the indicfc" 
incnt?^' 

" By no means — but, as she has called herself Mary Monson^ 
5«he cannot avail herself of her own acts." 

" Certainly not — I asked merely as a matter of information. 
She must be made to feel the necessity of fortifying us on that 
particular point, else it will go far towards convicting her. Jurors 
do not like aliases.'' 

" She knows this already ; for I have laid the matter before 
her, again and again. Nothing seems to move her, however; and 
aa to apprehension, she appears to be above all fear." 

" This is most extraordinary ! — Have you interrogated the 
maid?" 

" How can I? She speaks no English; and I can't utter a 
syllable in any foreign tongue." 

" Ha ! Does she pretend to that much ignorance ? Marie 
Moulin speaks very intelligible English, as I know from having 
conversed with her often. She is a clever, prudent Swiss, from 
one of the French cantons, and is known for her fidelity and 
trustworthiness. With me she will hardly venture to practise 
this deception. If she has feigned ignorance of English, it was 
in order to keep her secrets." 

Timms admitted the probability of its being so ; then he en- 
tered into a longer and more minute detail of the state of the 
case. In the first place, he admitted that, in spite of all his own 
efforts to the contrary, the popular feeling was setting strong 
against their client. " Frank Williams," as he called the saucy 
person who bore that name, had entered into the struggle mighi 
and main, and was making his customary impressions. 

" His fees must be liberal," continued Timms, "and I should 
think are in some way dependent on the result ; for I never sa^v 
the fellow more engaged in my life." 

" This precious Code does allow such a bargain to bo moAi 



84-1 T 11 K W AYS O f T 11 E II O U U. 

between the couusel and his client, or any other bargain that is 
not downright conspiracy/' returned Punscoinb ; " but I do not 
see what is to be shared, even should Mary IMonson be hanged." 

" Do not speak in that manner of so agreeable a person," cried 
Timms, actually manifesting emotion — *' it is unpleasant to think 
of. It is true, a conviction will not bring money to the prose- 
cution, unless it should bring to light some of Mrs. Goodwin's 
hoards.'' 

Dunscomb shrugged his shoulders, and his associate proceeded 
with his narrative. Two of the reporters were oftcndcd, and their 
allusions to the cause, which were almost daily in their respective 
journals, were ill-natured, and calculated to do great harm, though 
BO far covered as to wear an air of seeming candour. The natural 
cflect of this " constant dropping," in a community accustomed 
to refer everything to the common mind, had been "to wear away 
the stone." Many of those who, at first, had been disposed to 
sustain the accused, unwilling to believe that one so young, so 
educated, so modest in deportment, so engnging in manners, and 
of the gentler sex, coidd possibly be guilty of the crimes im- 
puted, were now changing their opinions, under the control of 
this potent and sinister mode of working on the public sentiment 
The agents employed by Timms to counteract this malign influ- 
ence had failed of their object ; they working merely for money, 
while those of the other side were resenting what they regarded 
as an alTront. 

The family of the Burtons, the nearest neighbours of the 
Goodwins, no longer received Timms with the frank cordiality that 
they had manifested in the earlier period of his intercourse with 
them. Then, they had been communicative, eager to tell all that 
they knew, and, as the lawyer fancied, even a little more ; while 
they were now reserved, uneasy, and indisposed to let one-half 
of the real facts within their knowledge be known. Timms 
thought they had been worked upon, and that they might expect 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 246 

boinc hostile and important testimony from that quarter. The 
consultation ended by an exclamation from Dunscomb on the 
Bubject of the abuses that were so fast creeping into the adminis- 
tration of justice, rendering the boasted freemen of America, 
though in a different mode, little more likely to receive its benefit 
from an unpolluted stream, than they who live under the worn 
out and confessedly corrupt systems of the old world. Such is 
the tendency of thiaga, and such one of the wayy of the hoiir. 



246 IIIK WAYS OF THE HOIFR 



CHAPTER XY. 

« Are those her ribs through which the bun 
Did peer, as through a grate; 
And is that woman all her crew? 
Is that a Death, and are there two? 
Is Death that woman's mate." 

The Fhantom Ship. 

Apter a short preparatory interview with Anna Updyke, Duni- 
comb repaired to the gaol, whither he had already despatched a 
note to announce his intended visit. Good Mrs. Gott received 
him with earnest attention ; for, as the day of trial approached, 
this kind-hearted woman manifested a warmer and warmer in- 
terest in the fate of her prisoner. 

" You are welcome, Mr. Dunscomb," said this well-disposed 
and gentle turnkey, as she led the way to the door that opened 
on the gallery of the gaol ; " and welcome, again and again. I 
do wish this business may fall into good hands ; and I 'm afraid 
Timms is not getting on with it as well as he might." 

" My associate has the reputation of being a skilful attorney 
and a good manager, Mrs. Gott." 

" So he has, Mr. Dunscomb ; but somehow — I scarce know 
how myself — but somehow, he doesn't get along with this cause, 
as well as I have known him to get along with others. The 
excitement in the county is terrible; and Gott has had seven 
anonymous letters to let him know that if Mary Monson escape, 
his hopes from the public are gone for ever. I tell him not to 
mind such contemptible things ; but he is frightened half out of 



THE ^YATS OF THE HOUR. 24*7 

his wits. It takes good courage, 'Squire, to treat au anonymoue 
Letter with the contempt it merits." 

" It sometimes does, indeed. Then you think we shall uave 
ap-hill work with the defence V* 

" Dreadful ! — I 've never known a cause so generally tried out 
of doors as this. What makes the matter more provoking, Mary 
Monson might have had it all her own way, if she had been so 
minded ; for, at first, she was popularity itself with all the neigh- 
bours. Folks nat'rally like beauty, and elegance, and youth- 
and Mary has enough of each to make friends anywhere." 

"What! with the ladies?" said Dunscomb, smiling. " Surely 
not with your sex, Mrs. Gott?" 

" Yes, with the women, as well as with the men, if she would 
only use her means ; but she stands in her own light. Crowds 
have been round the outer windows to hear her play on the harp 
— they tell me she uses the real Jew's Harp, 'Squire Dunscomb; 
such as Royal David used to play on ; and that she has great 
skill. There is a German in the village who knows all about 
music, and he says Mary Monson has been excellently taught — 
by the -very best masters." 

" It is extraordinary ; yet it would seem to be so. Will you 
have the goodness to open the door, Mrs. Gott ?" 

" With all my heart," answered this, in one sense, very singular 
turi^key, though in another a very e very-day character, jingling 
her keys, but not taking a forward step to comply; " Mary Mon- 
son expects you. I suppose, sir, you know that saucy Frank 
Williams is retained by the friends of the Goodwins?'' 

" Mr. Timms has told me as much as that. I cannot say, 
however, that I have any particular apprehension of encountering 
Mr. Williams." 

^'No, sir; not yoM, I'll engage, not in open court; but out 
Df doors he 's very formidable." 

" I trust this cau«e, one involving the life and reputation of a 



348 T II K W A Y S O F T 11 K 11 () U R. 

Vci}' iutercyting foiuale. will uot be tried out of doorts, Mrs. GotU 
The issue iti too serious for sueli a tribunal." 

" So Ji body would think ; but a great deal of law-business is 
betlled, they tell me, under the sheds, and in the streets, and in 
the taverns; most espeeially in the juror's bed-rooms, and settled 
in a way it ought uot to be." 

" I am afraid you are nearer right than every just-minded per- 
son could wish. But wo will tidk of this another time — tho 
door if you please, now/' 

" Yes, sir, in one minute. It would be so easy for IMary Mou- 
Bou to be just as popular with everybody in Biberry as she is with 
me. Let her come to one of the side-windows of the galler}^ this 
evening, and show hci*self to the folks, and play on that harp of 
her's, and lloyal David himself could not have been better liked 
by the Jews of old, than she would soon be by our people liere- 
abouts." 

" It is probably now^ too late. The court sits in a few days ; 
and the mischief, if any there be, must be done." 

<* No such thing, begging your jwrdon, 'Squire. There 's thnt 
in iMary jMonson that can carry anything she pleases.- Folks 
lunv think her proud and consequential, because she will not just 
stand at one of the grates and let them look at her a little.'' 

" I am afraid, Mrs. Gott, your husband has taught you a 
greater i*espect for those you call 'the people,' than they deserve 
to receive at your hands." 

" Ciott is dreadfully afraid of them " 

" And he is set apart by the laws to see them executed on 
tlu^se very people," interrupted Punscomb, with a sneer; "to 
levy on their possessions, keep the peace, enforce the laws; in 
bhort, to make them feel, whenever it is necessary, that they are 
^oi'crned .'" 

*'Gott says 'that the people tcill rule.' That's his great 
snijing.'' 



T ir E W A Y H OF T UK II O U K. 249 

'•' Will aeem to rule, is true enough j but the irK^st that th^ 
tnn»B of any nation can do, is occasionally to check the proceed 
ings of their governors. The every-day work is most effectually 
done by a favoured few here, just as it is done Ijy a favoured few 
everywhere else. The door, now, if you please, my good Mrs. 
Gott.'' 

" Yes, sir, in one minute. Dear me I how odd that you should 
hiuk 80. Why, I thought that you were a democrat, Mr. Duns- 
comb?'' 

" So I am, as between forms of government; but I never was 
fool enough to think that the people can really rule, further than 
by occasional checks and rebukes." 

" What would Gott say to this ! Why, he is so much afraid 
of the people, that he tells me he never does anything, without 
fancying some one is looking over his shoulders." 

" Ay, that is a very good rule for a man who wishes to bo 
chosen sherijf. To be a bishop, it would be better to remember 
the omniscient eye." 

" I do declare — oh! Gott never thinks of that, more 's the 
pity," applying the key to the lock. " When you wish to come 
out, 'Squire, just call at this grate" — then dropping her voice to 
a whisper — " tr^' and persuade Mary Monson to show herself at 
one of the side grates." 

But Dunscomb entered the gallery with no such intention. As 
he was expected, his reception was natural and easy. The pri- 
son^ was carefully though simply dressed, and she appeared all 
the better, most probably, for some of the practised arts of her 
woman. Mario Moulin, herself, kept modestly within the cell, 
where, indeed, she passed most of her time, leaving the now 
^uite handsomely furnished gallery to the uses of her mistress. 

After the first few words of salutation, Dunscomb took the 
chair he was invited to occupy, a good deal at a loss how to 
uxldress a woman of his companion's mien and general air as a 



250 T 11 K W A Y S O F T U K HOUR. 

eulprit about, to be tried for her life, lie first aitcuiptod wonic 
of oourse. 

^^ I. see you have had a proper regard to your eoni forts in this 
miserable plaee," he remarked. 

'* Po not call it by so forbiddii\g a name, Mr. Dunseonib," was 
the answer, given 'with a sorrowful, but exceedingly "winning 
smile — "it is ?«// phicc of refuge.'' 

" Do you still persist in refusing to tell me against what, Miss 
Mouson V 

" I persist in nothing that ought not to be done, I liope. At 
another time I may be more communicative. 15ut, if what IMrs. 
Gott tells me is correct, I need these walls to prevent my being 
torn to pieces by those she calls the people, outside." 

Bunscomb looked with amazeuient at the being who quietly 
made this remark on her own situation. Of beautiful form, with 
nil the signs of a gentle origin and retined education, young, 
handsome, delicate, nay, dainty of speech and acts, there she sat, 
inilieted for arson and murder, and about to be tried ftn* her life, 
with the composure of a lady in her drawing-room ! The illumi- 
nated expi*ession that, at times, rendered her countenance so very 
remarkable, had now given place to one of sobered sadness; 
though apprehension did not appear to be in the least predo- 
minant. 

" The sheriflF has instilled into his wife a very healthful ix^speot 
for those she calls the people — healthful, for one who looks to 
their voices for his support. This is very American." ^ 

" I suppose it to be much the same everywhere. I have been 
a good deal abroad, IMr. Dunscomb, and cannot say T perceive 
any great diflerence in men." 

*' Nor is there any, though eireuni^tances cause difterent mode? 
of betraying their weaknesses, as well us what there is in them 
that is good. But the people in this country, Miss Monson. 
po.^^ess a power that, in your ease, is n(.t to be despised. As 



THE WAY 8 OF THE HOUR. 251 

Mrs. Gott would intimate, it may be prudent for you to remem 
ber that:' 

" Surely you would not bave me make an exliibition of my- 
gclf, Mr. Dunscomb, at tbe window of a gaol V 

" As far from that as possible. I would have you do nothing 
that is unbecoming one of your habits and opinions — nothing, 
in short, that would bo improper, as a means of defence, by one 
accused and tried by the State. Nevertheless, it is always wiser 
to make friends than to make enemies." 

Mary Monson lowered her eyes to the carpet, and Dunscomb 
perceived that her thoughts wandered. They were not on her 
critical situation. It was indispensably necessary, however, that 
he should be explicit, and he did not shrink from his duty. 
Gently, but distinctly, and with a clearness that a far less gifted 
mind than that of the accused could comprehend, he now opened 
the subject of the approaching trial. A few words were first 
ventured on its grave character, and on the vast importance it 
was in all respects to his client; to which the latter listened at- 
tentively, but without the slightest visible alarm. Next, he 
alluded to the stories that were in circulation, the impression 
they were producing, and the danger there was that her rights 
might be affected by these sinister opinions. 

" But I am to be tried by a judge and a jury, they tell me,*' 
said Mary Monson, when Dunscomb ceased speaking — " they 
will come from a distance, and will not be prejudiced against me 
by all this idle gossip." 

^' Judges and jurors are only men, and nothing goes farther 
with less effort than your Mdle gossip.* Nothing is repeated ae- 
ourately, or it is very rare to find it so ; and those who only half 
comprehend a subject are certain to relate with exaggerations and 
false colourings." 

" How, then, can the electors discover the real characters of 
these for whom they are required to vote ?" demanded Mary 



262 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

Moiison, smiling ; " or got just ideas of the measures thej are 
to flupport or to oppose ?" 

" Half the time they do neither. It exceeds all our present 
means, at least, to diffuse suflScient information for that. The 
cons«}quencc is, that appearances and assertions are made to take 
the place of facts. The mental food of the bulk of this nation 
is an opinion simulated by the artful to answer their own pur- 
poses. But the power of the masses is getting to be very formi- 
dable — more formidable in a way never contemplated by those 
who formed the institutions, than in any way that was foreseen. 
Among other things, they begin to hold the administration of 
justice in the hollow of their hands." 

" I am not to be tried by the masses, I trust. If so, my fate 
would be very hard, I fear, judging from what I hear in my little 
excursions in the neighbourhood." 

" Excursions, Miss Monson !" repeated the astonished Dunscomb. 

" Excursions, sir ; I make one for the benefit of air and exer- 
cise, every favourable night, at this fine season of the year. 
Surely you would not have me cooped up here in a gaol, without 
the relief of a little fresh air?" 

" With the knowledge and concurrence of the sheriff, or that 
of his wife?" 

" Perhaps not strictly with those of cither ; though I suspect 
good Mrs. Gott has an inkling of my movements. It would be 
too hard to deny myself air and exercise, both of which are very 
necessary to my health, because I am charged with these horrid 
crimes." 

Dunscomb passed a hand over his brow, as if he desired to 
clear his mental vision by friction of the physical, and, for a mo- 
ment, sat absolutely lost in wonder. He scarce knew whether he 
was or was not dreaming. 

^^ And you have actually been outsiuo of thepo walls, Misfi 
Monson!" ho exclaimed, at length. 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. L'o-J 

"Twenty times, at least. Why should I stay within thcin, 
when the means of quitting them are always in my power T' 

As Mary Monson said this, she showed Her counsel a set of 
keys that corresponded closely with those which good Mrs. Gott 
was in the habit of using whenever she came to open the door 
of that particular gallery. A quiet smile betrayed how little 
the prisoner fancied there was anything remarkable in all this. 

" Are you aware, Miss Monson, it is felony to assist a prisoner 
to escape r' 

" So they tell me, Mr. Dunscomb ; but as I have not escaped, 
or made any attempt to escape, and have returned regularly and 
in good season to my gaol, no one can be harmed for what I have 
done. Such, at least, is the opinion of Mr. Timms.'' 

Dunscomb did not like the expression of face that accompanied 
this speech. It might be too much to say it was absolutely cun- 
ning ; but there was so much of the manoeuvring of one accus- 
tomed to manage in it, that it awakened the unpleasant distrust 
that existed in the earlier days of his intercourse with this singular 
young woman, and which had now been dormant for several weeks. 
There was, however, so much of the cold polish of the upper 
classes in his client's manner, that the oflending expression was 
thrown off from the surface of her looks, as light is reflected 
from the ground and silvered mirror. At the very instant which 
succeeded this seeming gleam of cunning, all was calm, quiet, 
refined, gentle, and without apparent emotion in the countenance 
of the accused. 

"Timms!'' repeated Dunscomb, slowly. " So he has known 
of this, and I dare say has had an agency in bringing it about?" 

" As you say it is felony to aid a prisoner to escape, I can say 
neither yes nor no to this, Mr. Dunscomb, lest I betray an ac« 
3omplice. I should rather think, however, that IMr. Timras is 
not a person to be easily caught in the meshes of the law.'* 

Again the counsellor disliked the expression; though Mar^ 



254 r II E AV AYS O F T he II O U H. 

MoDSon looked unusually pretty at that particular moment Ho 
did not pause to analyze his feelings, notwithstanding, but rather 
sought to relieve his own curiosity, which had been a good deal 
aroused by the information just received. 

" As you have not hesitated to tell me of what you call your 
' excursions,' Miss Monson," he continued, " perhaps you will so 
far extend your confidence as to let me know where you go?'' 

" I can have no objection to that. Mr. Timms tells me the 
law cannot compel a counsel to betray his client's secrets ; and 
of course I am safe with you. Stop — I have a duty to perform 
that has been too long delayed. Gentlemen of your profession 
are entitled to their fees ; and, as yet, I have been very remiss in 
this respect. Will you do me the favour, Mr. Dunscomb, to ac- 
cept that, which you will see has been some time in readiness to 
be offered." 

Dunscomb was too much of a professional man to feel any 
embarrassment at this act of justice; but he took the letter, 
broke the seal, even before his client's eyes, and held up for 
examination a note for a thousand dollars. Prepared as he was 
by Timms's account for a liberal reward, this large sum took him 
a good deal by surprise. 

" This is an unusual fee. Miss Monson !" he exclaimed; "one 
much more considerable than I should expect from you, were I 
working for remuneration, as in your case I certainly am not." 

" Gentlemen of the law look for their reward, I believe, as 
much as others. We do not live in the times of chivalry, when 
gallant men assisted distressed damsels as a matter of honour; 
but in what has well been termed a * bank-note world.' " 

" I have no wish to set myself up above the fair practices of 
jiy profession, and am as ready to accept a fee as any man in 
Nassau-Street. Nevertheless, I took your case in hand with a 
very different motive. It would pain me to be obliged to worI> 
for a fee, on the present unhappy occasion " 



THE WAYS OF THE H O U K. 255 

Mary Monson looked grateful, and for a minute she seemed to 
be reflecting on some scheme by which she could devise a substi- 
tute for the old-fashioned mode of proceeding in a case of ihia 
Bort. 

" You have a niece, Mr. Dunscomb/' she at length exclaimed — 
^* as Marie Moulin informs me ? A charming girl, and who ia 
about to be married?'' 

The lawyer assented by an inclination of the head, fastening 
his penetrating black (i0ts on the full, expressive, greyish-blue 
ones of his companion. 

"You intend to return to town this evening?" said Mary 
Monson, in continuation. 

" Such is my intention. I came here to-day to confer with 
you and Mr. Timms, on the subject of the trial, to see how 
matters stand on the spot, by personal observation, and to intro- 
duce to you one who feels the deepest interest in your welfare, 
and desires most earnestly to seek your acquaintance." 

The prisoner was now silent, interrogating with her singularly 
expressive eyes. 

" It is Anna Updyke, the step-daughter of my nearest friend, 
Dr. McBrain ; and a very sincere, warm-hearted, and excellent 
girl.'' 

" I have heard of her, too," returned Mary Monson, with a 
smile so strange, that her counsel wished she had not given this 
demonstration of a feeling that seemed out of place, under all 
the circumstances. " They tell me she is a most charming girl, 
and that she is a very great favourite with your nephew, the 
young gentleman whom I have styled my legal vidette." 

'< Vidette ! That is a singular term to be uised by you !" 

" Oh ! you will remember that I have been much in countries 
where such persons abound. I must have caught the word from 
gome of the young soldiers of Europe. But, Mr. John Wilmetel 
is an admirer of the young lady you have named?" 



256 T II K WAYS OF TIIK HOUR. 

'' 1 hopu ho i.s. 1 know of no one with whom I tliiiik he 
would 1)0 nioro likoly to bo happy." 

Dunsoonib spoke earnestly, and at sueh times his manner was 
Bingularly sincere and impressive. It was this appearance of 
feeling and nature that gave him the power he possessed over 
juries j and it may be said to have made no small part of his 
fortune. Mary Monson seemed to be suri^'ised ; and she fastened 
her remarkable eyes on the uncle, in a way that might have 
admitted of different interpretations, i^er lips moved as if she 
epoke to herself; and the smile that succeodcid was both mild 
and sad. 

"To be sure," added the prisoner, slowly, " my information 
is not on the very best authority, coming, as it does, from a ser- 
vant — but Marie IMoulin is both discreet and observant." 

" She is tolerably w^oU qualified to speak of Anna Updykc, 
having seen her almost daily for the last two years. But, we are 
all surprised that you should know anything of this young wo 
man." 

" I know her i)rocisely as she is known to your niece and Miss 
Updyke — in other words, as a maid who is much esteemed by 
those she serves — but," apparently wishing to change the dis- 
course — *^ we arc forgetting the purpose of your visit, all this 
time, ]Mr. Punscomb. Do me the favour to write your address 
hi town, and that of Pr. MePrain on this card, and we will i)ro- 
ceed to business." 

Dunscomb did as desired, when he ojhmuhI on the details that 
were the object of his little journey. As had been the case iu 
all his previous interviews w^ith her, Mary JMonson surprised hini 
with the coolness with which she spoke of an issue that involvej 
her own fate, for life or for death. AVhilo she carefully abstjuned 
friun making any allusion to circumstances that might betray 
her ])rovious history, she shrunk from no in(juiry that bore oil 
'he acts of which she had bi>en aetused. Every questiem ])ut by 



THE WAYS OF THE H O t K . 25*1 

Dunscomb that related to the mui'ders and the arsou, was an- 
swered frankly and freely, there being no wish appai-ent to con- 
ceal the minutest circumstance. She made several exccedinglv 
shrewd and useful suggestions on the subject of the approaching 
trial, pointing out defects in the testimony against her, and rca- 
fioning with singular acuteness on particular facts that were 
known to be much relied on by the prosecution. We shall not 
reveal these details any further in this stage of our narrative, 
for they will necessarily appear at length in our subsequent 
pages ; but shall confine ourselves to a few of those remarks that 
may be better given at present. 

"I do not know, Mr. Dunscomb," Mary Monson suddenly 
said, while the subject of her trial was yet under discussion, 
" that I have ever mentioned to you the fact that Mr. and Mrs. 
Goodwin were not happy together. One would think, from what 
was said at the time of the inquest, that they were a very affec- 
tionate and contented couple ; but my own observation, during 
the short time I was under their roof, taught me better. The 
husband drank, and the wife was avaricious and very quarrelsome. 
I am afraid, sir, there are few really happy couples to be foimd 
on earth V 

" If you knew McBrain better, you would not say that, my 
dear Miss Monson," answered the counsellor with a sort of glee — 
" there 's a husband for you ! — a fellow who is not only happy 
with one wife, but who is happy with /Aree, as he will tell you 
himself" 

" Not all at the same time, I hope, sir?'' 

Dunscomb did justice to his friend's character, by relating how 
the matter really stood ; after which he asked permission to m- 
troduce Anna Updyke. Mary Monson seemed startled at this 
request, and asked several questions, which induced her counsel 
to surmise that she Avas fearful of being recognised. Nor wag 
Dunscomb pleased with all the expedients adopted by his client, 



258 THE WAYS Ot THE HOUR. 

in order to extract information from him. He thouglit the> 
slightly indicated cunning, a quality that he might be said to 
abhor. Accustomed as he was to all the efforts of ingenuity in 
illustrating a principle or maintaining a proposition, he bad 
always avoided everything like sophistry and falsehood. Thi.'. 
weakness on the part of Mary IMonson, however*, was soon for 
gotten in the graceful manner in which she acquiesced in the 
wish of the stranger to be admitted. The permission was finally 
accorded, as if an honour were received, with the tact of a female 
and the easy dignity of a gentlewoman. 

Anna Updyke possessed a certain ardour of character that had 
more than once, given her prudent and sagacious mother uncasi 
ncss, and which sometimes led her into the commission of acts 
always innocent in themselves, and perfectly under the restraint 
of principles, which the world would have been apt to regard at 
imprudent. Such, however, was far from being her reputation, 
her modesty and the diffidence with which she regarded herself, 
being amply sufficient to protect her from the common observa- 
tion, even while most beset by the weakness named. Her lov€ 
for John Wilmeter was so disinterested, or to herself so seemed 
to be, that she fancied she could even assist in bringing about 
his union with another woman, were that necessary to his happi- 
ness. She believed that this mysterious stranger was, to say the 
least, an object of intense interest with John, which soon made 
her an object of intense interest with herself; and each hour 
increased her desire to become acquainted with one so situated, 
friendless, accused, and seemingly suspended by a thread over 
an abyss, as she was. When she first made her proposal to 
Dunscomb to be permitted to visit his client, the wary and ex- 
perienced counsellor strongly objected to the step. It was im- 
prudent, could lead to no good, and might leave an impression 
unfavourable to Anna's own character. But this advice was 
unheeded by a girl of Anna Updyke's generous temperament. 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 250 

Quiet and gentle as she ordinarily appeared to be, there was a 
deep under-current of feeling and enthusiasm in her moral con- 
stitution, that bore her onward in any course which she considered 
to be right, with a total abnegation of self. This was a quality 
to lead to good or evil, as it might receive a direction; and 
happily nothing had yet occurred in her brief existence to carry 
her away towards the latter goal. 

Surprised at the steadiness and warmth with which his young 
friend persevered in her request, Dunscomb, after obtaining the 
permission of her mother, and promising to take good care of 
his charge, was permitted to convey Anna to Biberry, in the 
manner related. 

Now, that her wish was about to be gratified, Anna Updyke, 
like thousands of others who have been more impelled by im- 
pulses than governed by reason, shrank from the execution of 
her own purposes. But the generous ardour revived in her in 
time to save appearances ; and she was admitted by well-meaning 
Mrs. Gott to the gallery of the prison, leaning on Dunscomb's 
arm, much as she might have entered a drawing-room, in a regu- 
lar morning call. 

The meeting between these two charming young women was 
frank and cordial, though slightly qualified by the forms of the 
world. A watchful and critical observer might have detected 
less of nature in Mary Monson's manner than in that of her 
guest, even while the welcome she gave her visitor was not with- 
out cordiality and feeling. It is true that her courtesy was more 
elaborate and European, if one may use the expression, than it 
is usual to see in an American female, and her air was less ardent 
than that of Anna; but the last was highly 'struck with her 
countenance and general appearance, and, on the whole, not 
iissatisfied with her own reception. 

The power of sympathy and the force of affinities soon made 
themselves felt, as between these two youthful females. Anna 



2G0 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

regarded Mary as a stranger most grievously wronged ; and for* 
getting all that tliere was wbich was questionable or mysterious 
in her situation, or remembering it only to feel the influence of 
its interest, while she submitted to a species of community of 
feeling with John Wilmeter, as she fancied, and soon got to be 
as much entranced with the stranger as seemed tt be the fate of 
all who approached the circle of her acquaintance. On the other 
hand, Mary Monson felt a consolation and gratification in thia 
visit to which she had long been a stranger. Good Mrs. Gott 
was kind-hearted and a woman, but she had no claim to the re- 
finement and peculiar sensibilities of a lady ; while Marie Moulin, 
discreet, respectful, even wise as she was in her own way, was, 
after all, nothing but an upper servant. The chasm between the 
cultivated and the uncultivated, the polished and the unpolished, 
is wide ; and the accused fully appreciated the change, when one 
of her own class in life, habits, associations, and, if the reader 
will, prejudices, so unexpectedly appeared to sympathize with, 
and to console her. Under such circumstances, three or four 
hours made the two fast and deeply-interested friends, on their 
own accounts, to say nothing of the effect produced by the gener- 
ous advances of one, and the perilous condition of the other. 

Dunscomb returned to town that evening, leaving Anna 
Updyke behind him, ostensibly under the care of Mrs. Gott. 
Democracy has been carried so far on the high road of ultraism 
m New York, as in very many interests to become the victinr of 
its own expedients. Perhaps the people are never so far from 
exercising a healthful, or indeed, any authority at all, as when 
made to seem, by the expedients of demagogues, to possess an 
absolute control. It is necessary merely to bestow a power which 
it is impossible for the masses to wield with intelligence, in order 
to effect this little piece of legerdemain in politics, the quasi 
people in all such cases becoming the passive instruments in the 
bands of their leaders, who strengthen their own authority by 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 261 

t'ds seeming support of the majority. In all cases, however, in 
which the agenc}'' of numbers can be felt, its force is made to 
prevail, the tendency necessarily being to bring down all repre- 
sentation to the level of the majority. The effect of the change 
has been pretty equally divided between good and evil. In many 
cases benefits have accrued to the community by the exercise of 
this direct popular control, while in probably quite as many the 
result has been exactly the reverse of that which was anticipated. 
In no one instance, we believe it will be generally admitted, has 
the departure from the old practice been less advantageous than 
in rendering the office of sheriff elective. Instead of being a 
leading and independent man, who has a pride in his position, 
and regards the character of his county as he does his own, thia 
functionary has got to be, nine times in ten, a mere political 
manoeuvrer, who seeks the place as a reward for party labours, 
and fills it very much for his personal benefit, conferring no 
dignity on it by his own position and character, lessening its 
authority by his want of the qualities calculated to increase it, 
and, in a good many instances, making it quite as difficult to wrest 
money from his hands, as from those of the original debtor. 

It is a consequence of this state of things that the sheriff has 
quite lost all, or nearly all of the personal consideration that was 
once connected with his office; and has sunk, in most of the 
strictly rural counties, into a gaoler, and the head of the active 
bailiffs. His object is altogether money; and the profit connected 
with the keeping of the prisoners, now reduced almost entirely 
to felons, the accused, and persons committed for misdemeanors, 
is one of the inducements for aspiring to an office once so hon- 
ourable. 

In this state of things, it is not at ail surprising that Duns- 
oomb was enabled to make such an arrangement with Mrs. Gott 
as would place Anna Updyke in a private room in the house 
Attached to tlie gaol, and which formed the sheriff's dwelling. 



203 T 11 K \V A Y S O F T HE H U I' U. 

The counsellor preferred leaving her with Mrs. Hortou ; but tr. 
this Anna herself objected, both because she hud taken a sti'ong 
dislike to the garrulous but shrewd landlady, and because it 
would have separated \wv too nuich from the person she had 
come especially to console and sympathize with. 

The arrangement made, Dunseomb, as has already been men- 
tioned, took his departure for town, with the understanding that 
bj was to return the succeeding week; the Circuit and Oyer and 
Terminer sitting on Monday; and the District Attorney, Mr, 
Gai'th, haviuix ojiven notice to her counsel that the indictment 
against Mary ]Monson would bo certainly traversed the second 
day of the sitting, which would be on Tuesday. 



'LUil WAi'S OF THE II O U Jl. i^O, 



CHAPTER XVI. 

" Let her locks be the reddest that ever were seen, 
And her eyes may be e'en any colour but green ; 
Be they light, gray, or black, their lustre and hue, 
I swear I 've no choice, only let her have two." 

The Duenjia. 

iVo days after this, Dunscomb was in his library, late at night., 
holding a brief discourse with McBrain's coachman, who haa 
':)een already introduced to the reader. Some orders had been 
. ^ven to the last, in relation to another trip to Biberry, whither 
the master and our lawyer were to proceed next day. The man 
was an old and indulged servant, and often took great liberties 
in these conferences. In this respect the Americans of his class 
differ very little from the rest of their fellow-creatures, notwith- 
standing all that has been said and written to the contrary. They 
obey the impulses of their characters much as the rest of man- 
kind, though not absolutely without some difference in manner. 

" I s'poses, 'Squire Dunscomb, that this is like to be the last 
journey that I and the doctor will have to take soon ag'in, in 
that quarter," coolly observed Stephen, when his master's friend 
had told him the hour to be at the door, with the other prepara 
tions that would be necessary; " unless we should happen to be 
called in at the post mortal." 

" Post mortem, you must mean, Hoof," a slight smile flashing 
on the lawyer's countenance, and as quickly disappearing. " So 
you consider it a settled thing that my client is to be found 
guilty?" 



204 T il Pi WAY S OF T II E II O L' It. 

" That 's what they say, sir ; and things turn out, in thia 
country, pretty much as they say aforehand. For ray part, sir, 
I never quite liked the criminars looks." 

" Her looks ! I do not know where you would go to find a 
more lovely young woman, Stephen!" 

This was said with a vivacity and suddenness that startled the 
CJachman a little. Even Dunscomb seemed surprised at his own 
inimation, and had the grace to change colour. The fact was, 
that he too was feeling the influence of woman, youthful, lovely, 
spirited, refined, and surrounded with diflficulties. This was the 
third of Mary Monson's conquests since her arrest, if John Wil- 
meter's wavering admiration could he placed in this category ; 
viz., Timms, the nephew, and the counsellor himself Neither 
was absolutely in love ; but each and all submitted to an interest 
of an unusual degree in the person, character and fortunes of this 
unknown female. Timms, alone, had got so far as to contemplate 
a marriage ; the idea having crossed his mind that it might be 
almost as useful as popularity, to become the husband of one 
possessed of so much money. 

" I '11 not deny her good looks, 'Squire," returned Stephen 
Hoof — or Stephen Hufi", as he called himself — "but it's hei 
had looks that isn't so much to my fancy. Vhy, sir, once the 
doctor had a horse that was agreeable enough to the eye, having 
a good colour and most of the p'ints, but who wasn't no traveller, 
not a bit on't. One that know'd the animal could see where the 
fault lay, the fetlock j'int being oncommon longish; and that 'a 
what I call good looks and bad looks." 

" You mean, Stephen," said Dunscomb, who had regained all 
his sangfroid, "that Mary Monson has a bad-looking ankle, I 
suppose, wherein I think you miserably mistaken. No matter ; 
she will not have to travel under your lash very far. But, how 
is it with the reporters ? — Do you sec any more of your friend 
that a.sks so many questions?" 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 265 

" They be an axing set, 'Squire, if anybody can be so called," 
returned Stephen, grinning. " Would you think it, sir '/ — one 
day when I was a comin' in from Timbully empty, one on 'em 
axed me for a ride ! a chap as hadn't his foot in a reg'lar private 
coach since he was born, a wantin' to drive about in a wehicle as 
well known as Doctor McBrain's best carriage ! Them's the 
yort of chaps that spreads all the reports that 's going up and 
down the land, they tell me." 

" They do their share of it, Stephen ; though there are enough 
to help them who do not openly belong to their corps. Well ; 
what does your acquaintance want to know now ?" 

" Oncommon curious, 'Squire, about the bones. He axed me 
more than forty questions ; what we thought of them ; and about 
their being male or female bones; and how we know'd; and a 
great many more sich matters. I answered him accordin' to my 
abilities ; and so he made an article on the subject, and has sent 
me the papers." 

" An article ! Concerning Mary Monson, and on your infor- 
mation?" 

^' Sartain, sir ; and the bones. Vhy they cut articles out of 
much narrower cloth, I can tell you, 'Squire. There '& the cookc, 
and chambermaids, and vaiters about town, none of vich can hold 
up their heads with a reg'lar, long-established physician's coach- 
man, who goes far ahead of even an omnibus driver in public 
estimation, as you must know, 'Squire — but such sort of folks 
furnish many an article for the papers now-a-days — yes, and 
articles that ladies and gentlemen read." 

" That is certainly a singular source of useful knowledge — 
cue must hope they are well-grounded, or they will soon cease 
to be ladies and gentlemen at all. Have you the paper about 
you, Stephen?" 

Hoof handed the lawyer a journal folded with a paragraph iu 

12 



2G6 THE WAYS 0¥ THE HOUR. 

view that was so much thumbed and dirtied; it was not very etisj 
to read it. 

"We understand that the trial of Mary Monson, for the mur- 
der of Peter and Dorothy Goodwin," said the ' article/ " will 
come off in the adjoining county of Dukes, at a very early day. 
Strong attempts have been made to make it appear that the 
skeletons found in the ruins of Goodwin's dwelling, which our 
readers will remember was burned at the time of the murders, 
are not human bones ; but, we have been at great pains to inves- 
tigate this very material point, and have no hesitation in giving 
it as our profound conviction that it will be made to appear that 
these melancholy memorials are all that remain of the excellent 
couple who were so suddenly taken out of existence. We do not 
speak lightly on this subject, having gone to the fountain-head 
for our facts, as well as for our science." 

" Hoof on McBrain ! " muttered Dunscomb, arching his brows 
— " this is much of a piece with quite one-half of the knowledge 
that is poured into the popular mind, now-a-days. Thank you, 
Stephen ; I will keep this paper, which may be of use at the 
trial.'^ 

" I thought our opinions was vorth something more than no- 
thing, sir," answered the gratified coachman — ^' a body doesn't 
ride at all hours, day and night, year arter year, and come out 
where he started. I vishes you to keep that 'ere paper, 'Squire, 
a little carefully, for it may be wanted in the college where they 
reads all sorts of things, one of these days." 

" It shall be cared for, my friend — I hear some one at the 
street-door bell. — It is late for a call; and I fear Peter has gone 
to bed. See who is there, and good night." 

Stephen withdrew, the ringing being repeated a little impa- 
tiently, and was soon at the street-door. The fellow admitted 
the visiters, and went ruminating homeward, Dunscomb main- 
f.ftining a very respectable reputation, in a bachelor point of view 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 267 

for morals. As for the lawyer himself, he was in the act of 
reading a second time the precious opinion expressed in the jour- 
nals, when the door of his library opened, a little hesitatingly it 
must be confessed, and two females stood on its threshold 
Although his entirely unexpected visiters were so much muffled 
in shawls and veils it was not possible to distinguish even the 
outlines of their persons, Dunscomb fancied each was youthful 
and handsome, the instant he cast his eyes on them. The result 
showed how well he guessed. 

Throwing aside the garments that concealed their forms and 
faces, Mary Monson and Anna Updyke advanced into the room. 
The first was perfectly self-possessed and brilliantly handsome ; 
while her companion, flushed with excitement and exercise, was 
not much behind her in this important particular. Duns- 
comb started, and fancied there was felony, even in his hospi- 
tality. 

" You know how difficult it is for me to travel by daylight," 
commenced Mary Monson, in the most natural manner in the 
world ; " that, and the distance we had to drive, must explain 
the unseasonableness of this visit. You told me once, yourself, 
that you are both a late and an early man, which encouraged me 
to venture. Mr. Timms has written me a letter which I have 
thought it might be well to show you. There it is ; and when 
you have cast an eye over it, we will speak of its contents.'' 

" Why, this is very much like a conditional proposal of mar- 
riage I" cried Dunscomb, dropping the hand that held the letter, 
as soon as he had read the first paragraph. " Conditional, so far 
IS the result of your trial is concerned!" 

" I forgot the opening of the epistle, giving very little thought 
to its purport; though Mr. Timms has not written me a line 
lately that has not touched on this interesting subject. A mar- 
riage between him and me is so entirely out of the way of all 
the possibilities, that I look upon his advances as mere embellish* 



268 THE WAYS Of THE HOUR. 

nient. I have answered him directly in the negative once, and 
that ought to satisfy any prudent person. They tell nic no wo- 
man should marry a man she has once refused ; and I shall plead 
Miis as a reason for continued obduracy." 

This was said plcasantty, and without the least appearance of 
resentment ; but in a way to show she regarded her attorney's pro- 
posal as very much out of the beaten track. As for Dunscomb, 
he passed his hand over his brows, and read the rest of a pretty 
long letter with grave attention. The purely business part of 
this communication was much to the point; important, clearly 
put, and every way creditable to the writer. The lawyer read 
it attentively a second time, ere he once opened his mouth in 
comments. 

^' And why is this shown to me?" he asked, a little vexed, as 
was seen in his manner. " I have told you it is felony to assist 
a prisoner in an attempt to escape." 

" I have shown it to you, because I have not the remotest in- 
tention, Mr. Dunscomb, to attempt anything of the sort. I shall 
not quit my asylum so easily." 

" Then why are you here, at this hour, with the certainty that 
most of the night must be passed on the road, if you mean to 
return to your prison ere the sun reappears ?'' 

" For air, exercise, and to show you this letter. I am often in 
town, but am compelled, for more reasons than you are acquainted 
with, to travel by night." 

" May I ask where you obtain a vehicle to make these jour- 
aies mV 

"I use my own carriage, and trust to a very long-tried and 
most faithful domestic. I think Miss Updyke will say he drove 
us not only carefully, but with great speed. On that score, we 
have no grounds of complaint. But I am very much fiitigued, 
and must ask permission to sleep for an hour. You have a draw 
iiig-room, I take it for granted, Mr. Dunscomb ?" 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 269 

" My niece fancies she has two. Shall I put lights in one of 
ihem?'* 

" By no means. Anna knows the house as well as she doeg 
her mother's, and will do the honours. On no account let IMiss 
Wilnieter be disturbed. I am a little afraid of meeting Aer, 
since we have practised a piece of treachery touching IMarie 
Moulin. But, no matter; one hour on a sofa, in a dark room, 
is all I ask. That will bring us to midnight, when the carriage 
will again be at the door. You wish to see your mother, my 
dear, and here is a safe and very suitable attendant to accompany 
you to her house and back again." 

All this was said pleasantly, but with a singular air of autho- 
rity, as if this mysterious being were accustomed to plan out and 
direct the movements of others. She had her way. In a minute 
or two she was stretched on a sofa, covered with a shawl, the door 
was closed on her, and Dunscomb was on his way to Mrs. 
McBrain's residence, which was at some distance from his own, 
with Anna leaning on his arm. 

" Of course, my dear," said the lawyer, as he and his beautiful 
companion left his own door at that late hour of the night, " we 
shall see no more of Mary Monson?" 

" Not see her again ! I should be very, very sorry to think 
that, sir!" 

" She is no simpleton, and means to take Timms's advice. 
That fellow has written a strong letter, in no expectation of its 
being seen, I fancy, in which he points out a new source of dan- 
ger ; and plainly advises his client to abscond. I can see the 
infatuation of love in this; for the letter, if produced, would 
bring him into great trouble." 

" And you suppose, sir, that Mary Monson intends to follow 
this advice?'' 

*' Beyond a question. She is not only a very clever, but she 
IS a very cunning woman. This last quality is one that I admire 



J < U T II K >Y A Y S O V T II K H O V K. 

ill her the lojist. I should be h:ilf in love with her myself — 
This was exactly the st;ite of the eounsollor's feelings towiuxi;? 
his client, in spite of his bravado and ailected discernment; u 
\vi>in:nrs charms often overshadowing a philosophy that is deeper 
even than his — " but for this very trait, ^Yhich I lind little to 
my taste. I take it for granted you are sent home to be put 
under your mother's care, where you properly belong; and 1 am 
got out of the way to save me from the pains ajid penalties oi' au 
hidietment for felony." 

" I think you do not understand Mary Monson, uncle Tom" — 
BO Anna had long called her friend's relative, as it might be iu 
anticipation of the time when the appellation would be correct — 
'' She is not the sort of person to do as you suggest; but would 
mther make it a point of houoiu* to remain, and face any accusa- 
tion whatever." 

" She must have nerves of steel to confront justice in a ease 
like her's, and iu the present state of public feeling in Duke's, 
tliistice is a very pretty thing to talk about, my dear; but we old 
practitioners know that it is little more, in human hands, than 
the manipulations of human passions. Of late years, the out- 
sidei-s — outside ku-barians they might very properly be termed — 
have almost as nuich to do with the result of any warmly-eon- 
tested suit, as the law and evidence. ^ Who is f»n the jury ?' id 
the fii-st question asked now-a-days; not what are the facts. I 
have told idl this, very plainly, to Mary IMonson " 

"To induce her to fly?" asked Anna, prettily, imd a littltj 
smartly. 

^' Not so nuuh that, as to induce her to consent to au appliciv- 
Won for delay. The judges of this country are so nuich over- 
worked, so little paid, and usually are so necessitous, that almost 
ftuy application for dela}^ is gniuted. lousiness at chambers is 
Badly neglected ; for that is done iu a corner, and does not address 
'tself to the public eye, or seek public eulogiums; but he is 



t HE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 271 

thougbt the cleverest fellow who will soonest sweep out a crowled 
calender. Causes are tried by tallow candles until midnight, 
mth half the jurors asleep ; and hard-working men, accustomed 
to be asleep by eight each night, are expected to keep their 
thoughts and minds active in the face of all these obstacles." 

" Do you tell me this, uncle Tom, in the expectation that I 
am to understand it?" 

" I beg your pardon, child; but my heart is full of the failing 
justice of the laud. We shout hosannas in praise of the insti- 
tutions, while we shut our eyes to the gravest consequences that 
are fast undermining us in the most important of all our interests. 
But here we are already ; I had no notion we had walked so fast. 
Yes, there is papa McBrain's one-horse vehicle, well emptied of 
its contents, I hope, by a hard day's work." 

" A doctor's life must be so laborious !" exclaimed the pretty 
Anna. "I think nothing could tempt me to marry a physician." 

" It is well a certain lady of our acquaintance was not of your 
way of thinking," returned Dunscomb, laughing; for his good 
humour always returned when he could give his friend a rub on 
his matrimonial propensities, '^else would McBrain have been 
troubled to get his last and best. Never mind, my dear; he is 
a good-natured fellow, and will make a very kind papa." 

Anna made no reply, but rang the bell a little pettishly ; for 
no child likes to have a mother married a second time, there be- 
ing much greater toleration for fathers, and asked her companion 
in. As the wife of a physician in full practice, the bride had 
already changed many of her long-cherished habits. In this ro- 
spect, however, she did no more than follow the fortunes of 
woman, who so cheerfully makes any sacrifice in behalf of him 
t)he loves. If men were only one-half as disinterested, as self- 
denying, and as true as the other sex, in all that relates to the 
ifFections, what a blessed state would that of matrimony be! 
btill, there are erring, and selfish, and domineering, and capri- 



2/2 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

pious, vain, heartless and self-willed females, whom nature never 
intended for married life; and who arc guilty of a species of 
profanation, when they stand up and vow to love, honour and 
obey their husbands. Many of these disregard their solemn 
pledges, made at the altar, and under the innncdiatc invocation 
of the Deity, as they would disregard a promise made in jest, 
and think no more of the duties and offices that are so peculiarly 
the province of their sex, than of the passing and idle promises 
of vanity. But, if such women exist, and that they do our daily 
experience proves, they are as exceptions to the great law of 
female faith, which is tenderness and truth. They are not 
women in character, whatever they may be in appearance ; but 
creatures in the guise of a sex that they discredit and caricature. 

Mrs. McBrain was not a person of the disposition just do- 
scribed. She was gentle and good, and bid fair to make the 
evening of her second husband's days very happy. Sooth to 
say, she was a good deal in love, notwithstanding her time of 
life, and the still more mature years of the bridegroom ; aud had 
been so much occupied with the duties and cares that belonged 
to her recent change of condition, as to be a little forgetful of 
her daughter. At no other period of their joint lives would she 
have permitted this beloved child to be absent from her, under 
such circumstances, without greater care for her safety and com- 
forts ; but there is a honey-week, as well as a honey-moon ; and 
the intenseness of its feelings might very well disturb the ordi- 
nary round of even maternal duties. Glad enough, however, 
was she now to see her daughter ; when Anna, blooming, and 
smiling, and blushing, flew into her mother's arms. 

" There she is, widow — Mrs. Updyke — I beg pardon — mar- 
ried woman, and Mrs. McBrain," cried Dunscomb — "Ned is 
»juch an uneasy fellow, he keeps all his friends in a fever with 
his emotions, aud love, and matrimony ; and that just suits him, 
BS he has only to administer a pill and set all right again. But, 



TilE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 27^ 

there she is, safe and unmarried, thank heaven ; whicn is always 
a, sort of consolation to me. She ^s back again, and you will do 
well to keep her, until my nephew, Jack, comes to ask permis- 
sion to carry her off, for good and all." 

Anna blushed more deeply than ever, while the mother smiled 
and embraced her child. Then succeeded questions and answers, 
until Mrs. McBrain had heard the whole story of her daughter's 
intercourse with Mary Monson, so far as it has been made known 
to the reader. Beyond that, Anna did not think herself autho- 
rized to go \ or, if she made any revelation, it wpuld be premature 
for us to repeat it. 

" Here we are, all liable to be indicted for felony," cried 
Dunscomb, as soon as the young lady had told her tale. '' Timms 
will be* hanged, in place of his client; and we three will have 
cells at Sing Sing, as accessaries before the act. Yes, my dear 
bride, you are what the law terms a ^particeps crirainis,' and 
may look out for the sheriff before you are a week older.'' 

"And why all this, Mr. Dunscomb?" demanded the half- / 
amused, half-frightened Mrs. McBrain. 

" For aiding and abetting a prisoner in breaking gaol. Mary 
Monson is off, beyond a question. She lay down in Sarah's 
drawing-room, pretending to be wearied, ten minutes since ; and 
has no doubt got through with her nap already, and is on her 
way to Canada, or Texas, or California, or some other out-of-the- 
way country; Cuba, for aught I know." 

"Is this so, think you, Anna?" ^ 

" I do not, mamma. So far from believing Mary Monson to 
be flying to any out-of-the-way place, I have no doubt that we 
Ehall find her fast asleep on Mr. Dunscomb's sofa." 

" Uncle Dunscomb's sofa, if you please, young lady." 

" No, sir ; I shall call you uncle no longer," answered Anna, 
jlushing scarlet — ■- " until — until " 

" You have a legal claim to the use of the word. Well, that 



2V4 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

will come in due time, I trust ; if not, it shall be my care lo see 
you have a title to a still dearer appellation. There, widow — 
Mrs. McBrain, I mean — I think that will do. But, seriously, 
child, you cannot imagine that Mary IMonson means ever to re- 
iurn to her prison, there to be tried for life ?" 

" If there is fiiith in woman, she does, sir ; else would I not 
Lave exposed myself to the risk of accompanying her." 

*' In what manner did you come to town, Anna?" asked the 
anxious mother. " Are you not now at the mercy of some driver 
of a hackney-coach, or of some public cabman?'' 

" I understand that the carriage which was in waiting for us, 
half a mile from Biberry, is Mrs. Monson's " 

"Mrs.!" interrupted Dunscomb — "Is she, then, a married 
woman?" 

Anna looked down, trembled, and was conscious of having be- 
trayed a secret. So very precious to herself had been the com- 
munication of Marie Moulin on this point, that it w^as ever 
uppermost in her thoughts ; and it had now escaped her under 
an impulse she could ' not control. It wfks too late, however, to 
retreat ; and a moment's reflection told her it would every way 
be better to tell all she knew, on this one point, at least. 

This was soon done ; for even Marie Moulin's means of in- 
formation were somewhat limited. This Swiss had formerly 
known the prisoner by another name ; though what name, she 
would not reveal. This was in Europe, where Marie had actually 
j^assed three years in this mysterious person's employment. Mario 
had even come to America, in consequence of this connection, at 
the death of her own mother; but, unable to find her former 
mistress, had taken service with Sarah Wilmcter. Mary Monson 
was single and uubctrothed when she left Europe. Such wa.^ 
Marie Moulin's statement. But it was understood she was now 
married; though to whom, she could not say. If Anna Updykc 
knew more than this, she did not reveal it at that interview 



HE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 275 

'* Ah ! Here is another case of a wife's elopement from her 
husband," interrupted Dunscomb, as soon as Anna reached this 
point in her narration ; " and I dare say something or other will 
be found in this wretched Code to uphold her in her disobedience. 
You have done well to marry, Mrs. McBrain ; for, according to 
the modern opinions in these matters, instead of providing your- 
self with a lord and master, you have only engaged an upper- 
Bcrvant/' 

" No true-hearted woman can ever look upon her husband in 
BO degrading a light, '^ answered the bride, with spirit. 

" That will do for three days ; but wait to the end of three 
years. There are runaway wives enough, at this moment, roam- 
ing up and down the land, setting the laws of God and man at 
defiance, and jingling their purses, when they happen to have 
money, under their lawful husbands* noses; ay, enough to set 
up a three-tailed bashaw ! But this damnable Code will uphold 
them, in some shape or other, my life for it. One can't endure 
her husband because he smokes ; another finds fault with his not 
going to church but once a day ; another quarrels with him for 
going three times; another says he has too much dinner-com- 
pany ; and another protests she can't get a male friend inside of 
her house. All these ladies, forgetful as they are of their highest 
earthly duties, forgetful as they are of woman's very nature, are 
the models of divine virtues, and lay claim to the sympathies of 
mankind. They get those of fools ; but prudent and reflecting 
men shake their heads at such wandering deisses." 

" You are severe on us women, Mr. Dunscomb," said tiiO 
bride. 

" Not on you, my dear Mrs. McBrain — never a syllable on 
yuu. But go on, child ; I have had the case of one of these 
vagrant wives in my hands, and know how mistaken has been 
the disposition to pity her. Men lean to the woman's side ; but 
rJie frequency of the abuse is beginning to open the eyes of the 



-TT) t i[ k way a o f t u k h o u u. 

publio. Go on, Anna (It'ar, and let us lioar it all — or all yua 
have to tell U!^." 

Very little remained to be related. JMarie JMoulin, herself, 
kn(>w very little of that whieh had oeeurrcd since her separation 
tVoni her present mistress in Franee. She did make one state- 
ment, however, that Anna had deemed very important; hut 
which she felt bound to keep as a secret, in eonsecpunice of the 
\njuncti()ns received from the Swiss. 

" I should have a good deal to say about this affair/' observed 
])unseomb, when his beautiful companion was done, " did I be- 
lieve that we shall find Mary JMonsou on our return to my house. 
In that case, T should say to you, my dear widow — JMrs. Mcl^rain, 
I mean — the devil take that fellow Ned, he '11 have half the 
wouien in town bearing his name before he is done — Well, Hea- 
ven be jn-aised ! he can neither marry vie, nor j;ive me a step- 
father, let him do his very best. There 's eomt'ort in that eonsi- 
ileratiou, at any rate.'* 

" Vou were about to tell us what you would do," put ih the 
bride, slightly vexed, yet too well assured of tlu. counsellor's 
attachment to her husband to feel angry — " you must know how 
n\uch value we all give to your advice." 

" 1 was about to say that Anna should not return to this 
mvstcrii)us convict — no, she is not yet convicted, but she is in- 
dicted, and that is sonu^thing — but return she should not, were 
there the least chance of our linding her, on our return home. 
liCt her go, then, and satisfy her curiosity, and pass the night 
with Sarah, who must, be thnnigh with her tirst nap by this 
time." 

Anna urged her mother to consent to this arrangement, ]uitting 
forward her engagenuMit with Mary Monsou, not to dtv^ert her. 
Mcl?rain driving to the door, from paying his last visit that 
night, his wife gave her assent to the ]>roposition ; the tenderest 
mother occasionally i>ermitting another antl niore powerful feeling 



T Jl K W A V S () K 'I' II K II OUR. ^* * 

to r.8urp the place of maternal can;. Mrs. J\lc Brain, it must l>e 
admitted, tliouglit more of tli(j brid(!grooni, sixty as he was, th;in 
of lier charming daughter; nor was she yet quite free from the 
awkwardness that ever accompanies a new connection of this na- 
ture when there arc grown-up children ; more especially on the 
part of the female. Then Anna had communicated to her mo- 
ther a most material circumstance, which it docs not suit our 
present purpose to reveal. 

" Now for a dozen pair of gloves that we do not liiid Mary 
Monson," said the lawyer, as he walked .smartly towards his own 
residence, with Anna Updyke under his arm. 

" Done !" cried the young lady — "and you shall pmj if you 
lose." 

"As bound in honour. Peter''' — the grey-headed black who 
answered the summons to the door — " will be glad enough to see 
us; for the o-ld fellow is not accustomed to let his young rogue 
of a master in at midnight, with a charming young woman under 
his arm." 

Anna Updyke was right. Mary Monson was in a deep sleep 
on the sofa. So profound was her rest, there was a hesitation 
About disturbing her; though twelve, the hour set for the return 
of the carriage to Eiberry, was near. For a few minutes JJuns- 
comb conversed witli his agreeable companion in his own 
library. 

" If Jack knew of your being in the house, he would never 
forgive my not having him called." 

" I shall have plenty of occasions for seeing Jack," returned 
the young lady, colouring. " You know how assiduous he is in 
this cause, and how devoted he is to the prisoner." 

" Do not run away with any such notion, child ; Jack is yours, 
heart and soul." 

" Hist — there is the carriage; Mary must be called." 

Away went Anna,, laughing, blushing, but with tears in bci 



- t S T M K >V A Y S O V T M K II O li U. 

(J^r'cs. Ill a luiuuto JMary iMonsoii luade lior appoaranoo, somo- 
Vvliat rolivshod and cahuoil by lior short nap. 

" ]\lako no excuse for waking me, Anna," sjiid this unaccount- 
aMi' NYOiuan. " Wo can both sloop on tho road. Tho carriage is 
as easy as a cradle ; and, hickily, tho roads are <|iiito good." 
"Still thoy load to a prison, jMrs. iMonson !" 
The prisoner smiled, and sooniod io bo lost in thought. It 
wa;;; the lirst time any of her now acquaintances had ever ad- 
dix'ssed her as a married woman; though IMarie Moulin, with 
the exception of her lirst exclamation at their recent meeting, 
had invariably used the appellation of x^ladame. All this, how- 
ever, was soon fonrotten in tho loave-takino:. Ihuiscomb thoujiht 
he had seldom seen a female of higher tone of manners, or great<ir 
persoujd charms, than this singuhir and mysterious young v.oman 
appeared to be, !Ul- she ciirt.s-eil her tulieu. 



T UK W A V H O h- T il »C II O I) K. 



OlIAlTKIl XVII. 

" Wiiiit t\ir.n av;iil iiii|i(;iM;Iitii(:iil.M, or flic liivv'ii 
S(;v(TrHt c;()riil(;iiiiiiil.i()it while IIm; (|II(;(;ii 
May nuiit«;Ii iiiiii (rum llic uj)liCl,(:<l liiiiul ol" jiiHlic*; 7" 

J'^dii of i'.HHI'.C. 

rKllHAI'S tli(! mosi, (M;i-|,:i,iM jtroof l,li:i,l, u?iy jxioplc (■:iii ^.nv*; of ;t 
lii^Mi nioniJ coiKlifioii, is in i!i(! ii(liriiMi,str;itioti of jiiHtI(;(!. Abs(»- 
Iiit(! iijfiillihilil.y is uii;it,l,;iin;il)l(; to iiKiii; ]mi llicns an; wide cliiiHiriH 
ill right ;iii(l wroii^';, l»(!(,W(!(;ii tin; l(!gal jii.sticc of one Htat(! of ho- 
ci(;ty and that (*f another. Ah th(5 doHciindantH of I^'in^dishnKiO, 
\v<! in tliin country an; !i[)t to jiHcrilx; a liiglior tone of [unity to 
th(; courls of the niotlior country, th;i.n to thoHC of any oth(?r 
l<!iiro|)(';ui nation. in this wo may bo riglifc, witlioiit infcrrin;^' 
the ii(;(;(;.ssity of l)eli(;ving tliat oven tlic onnine of l<]n;.';I;in(l is 
hi»otleHS; for it (;an never be forgotten that IJjicon jind ,Jelfri(!S 
once fiHed her lji^Ii(;st judicial SCats, to say nothin^i; of ni;iny 
others, whose abus(;s of tlieir trusts have; doubthiss been h)st in 
their coiiii):i,rative ol>seurity. I'assing from tlie i)arcnt to its oO- 
Hpring, tin; condition of American justice, so far as it is deiKindent 
on tlio b(;neh, is a j)rofound moral anomaly. It'would seem that 
every known (;xpedient of man has been resorted to, to nsnder it 
corru|)t, feeble, and ignorant; y(;t he would 1m; a hardy, not to 
say an .'Uidaeions (;oninj(;ntator, who should [)r(!snni(; to alhrrn tlint 
it is not (iulitlcd to stand in the vv.ry foremost ninks of hujn;iii 
integrity 

111 paid, without retiring pensions, with nothing to expect in 
the way <»f family ;i?id hcr('dlt:iry honours and diiniities; with 



*^H() T li K w A V s (> f T II n: 11 () n ii. 

lilili', ill .sliorl, ciMicr in possession or in prospect, to givo an^ 
|i;ir(i(ul;ir indiiciiint'nl, to bu lioiunsi, it is ccrtuiii that, us a wliolo, 
lilt' iii(I;:i'S oC lliis p;r(!at r(ii)ublic may lay claim to bo dasaiM) 
iiiiKiii^ lli(i most iijMi;_';lit of wliicii liislory rnniislics any account. 
I liili:iin»ily, popular caprice, and j)0[uilar ignorance, havo been 
brought to bear on llu^ selection of the magislratiis, of late; and it 
is (*asy to predict the result, ■which, like that on the militia, is soon 
to |)iill <lo\vii even (his all-impoilant m;u'liiiiery of soelely to {\w 
level of the common mind. 

Not only have the obvious and well-eanied inducements te 
Keep men honest compi'lenee, honours, and set'iirity in ollice — 
been reclclessly Ihnnvu away by (he open hand of jiopular delu- 
sion, but all (h(» minor expediiMits by uhich thosi^ who cannot 
think iiii,'i;ht be made to fetd, havi' been liiid aside, leaving the 
UKuliinerv of jiisru'c as naked as tlu; Ii:»nd. vMlhoiigh the eolouial 
system was neviT elaborated in these last particulars, there were 
Sonu> of its usid'ul and respectable remains, down as late as the 
comnu'iieemeiit of tlu> pr(>seiit century. The sIumHV np[)(>are<l 
with his sword, the judge was escorted to and from the t'ourt- 
house to his iirivalo dwelling with smuo show of attention and 
respect, leaving a. salutary impression of authority ou the ordmary 
observer. All this has disai)j>eared. The judge slips into tim 
county town almost uuUuowu ; lives at an inn amid a crowd of 
lawyers, witncssi's, suitors, jurors and horse-shedders, as Timms 
calls them; tiiids his way to the luMuh as best he may; and 
Hcems to think that tlu> uuno work he c:\\i do in the shortest 
time is the oiu> great purjiost^ of his aj^poiut incut. Nevertheless, 
these men, us i/rt, are surprisingly incorrupt and intelligiMit. 
How long it will remain so, no one can juvdiet; if it be for a 
human life, however, the working of the pn)blem will demon- 
f<lrati' the fallibility oi' eviM-y a]>preciation oi' human uiotives. 
(>.m> bad conse(pu>nee oi' the dt^preeiatiim oi' the ollice of a ma- 
gistrate, liow(>vtM-, has long been appauMit, in the h^ssening of th« 



TllK WAYS OF TllK II () II R. 281 

influence of the judge on the juries; the power that alone renders 
the latter institution even tolerable. This is putting an irrespon- 
Bible, usually an ignorant, and often a corrupt arbiter, in the 
judgment-scat, in lieu of the man of higli qualities for wliich it 
was alone intended. 

The cireuit and oyer and terminer f((r Duke's presented no- 
thing novel in its beiieh, its bar, its jurors, and wc might add its 
witnesses. Tlie first was a cool-headed, dispassionate man, with 
ft very respocta])lc amount of legal learning and experience, and 
a perfectly fair character. No one suspected him of acting wrong 
from evil motives; and when he did err, it was ordinarily from 
the pressure of business; though, occasionally, he was mistaken, 
because the books could not foresee every possible pha.se of a 
cjasc. The bar was composed of plain, hard-working men, mate- 
rially above the level of Timms, except in connection with mo- 
ther-wit; better educated, better mannered, and, as a wiiole, of 
materially higher origin; though, as a body, neither profoundly 
learned nor of very refined deportment. Nevertheless, these 
persons had a very fair portion of all the ])etter qualities of the 
northern professional men. They were shrewd, quick in the 
application of their acquired knowledge, ready in their natural 
resources, and had that general aptitude for affairs tliat probably 
is the fruit of a practice that includes all the different branclujs 
of the profession. Here and there was a usurer and extortioner 
among them ; a fellow who disgraced his calling by running up 
unnecessary bills of cost, by evading the penal statutes passed to 
prevent abuses of this nature, and by cunning attempts to obtaio 
more for the use of his money than the law sanctioned. lUit 
Buch was not the general character of the Duke's county bar, 
which was rather to bo censured for winking at irregular pro- 
ceedings out (jf doors, for brow-beating witnesses, and lor regard- 
.ng th(; end so intensely as not always to be particular in niforencc 
lo the means, than for such gross and positively illegal and op- 



2S"J T II i: W A V rt () !• T II K II t) II II, 

proKsivo incasurt's a.s tlioso just nuMitioiuHl. As for (ho jurors 
llu>V NviMt* jusl. >vlia(. that. aui'UMit iii.sli(u(nm uil^lit Uo .suppostul 
to he, ill a oouiitry whiMo so uiauy oi^ (ho body cf (ln> poopU* aro 
lialtK' lo Ih> .smnnutnoil. Au uuusuallv hu'go |>ro])ortiou of theso 
luou, whou all (hi> oiivuiu.slauoos aiv oousithMinl, woro lUM-liaps as 
lit (o 1)0 (lius (Muph>Yi'il '»<"^ ooulil bo ob(^iiuo(l froui (ho body of \\w 
I'oiumuuilv of auv oouiilry on oaith ; but a vorv sorious uuiiibor 
woro al(.ogo(hor uusul(oil (o porfoiiu (ho dolioato (hitios of (hoir 
Ktjitlou. Kortuuatolv, (lio iguovaut aro vorv apt to bo iiiihiouotHl 
by tlio uuuo intt'llii'^iMit, iii oasos of (his uaturo; and b\ this oxor- 
oisi* (>f a yory natiual ptuvor, h\^s iujustioo is ooiniuittod than 
might t)thorNyiso ooour. lloiv, howovor, is thi» oponiug (or (ho 
" htMso-shodding" and " pill*nyiug," of whioh Tinuus has spokon, 
and o[' whiih so iiiuoli uso is uiado annuul i>vorv t-ouutry oourt- 
housv' in (ho stato. 'This is tho crying ovil i>f tho (inios; and, 
taluMi in ooniuH'tion uith tlio onornious ubuso wliioh is nMuUn'ing 
a ooiupofition in ui'ws a rogvdar, mono}' -g^M ting ooi-upation, ono 
(hat tliroatons io sot at doliaiu'O all laws, primiplos and farts. 

A woid romains to bo said o( (ho \yi(nossos. JVrhaps (ho 
raiost thing I'onnoolod with tho administration of justioo all ovor 
tlu^ world, is an intolligont. porlVitly impartial, olour hoadod, dis- 
oriniinating witnoss; ono who distiuotl}" knows all ho says, full}' 
approoiatos (ho olVoot oi' his words ou tho jury, and who has (ho 
dispi»sition to submit what ho knows sololy to tho law and tho 
oviiloui-o. Mon of oxporionoo aro of i>pinion (hat an oath usually 
o.\(rao(.s tho trudi. >Vo (hink so too; but it is tru(h a.s (ho wit- 
noss xnulors(ands it ; fu'ts as ho has soon (horn ; and opinions 
that, nnoonsi'iouslv io hiinsolf, havo boon warpod bv roptn-ts, 
snoi>rs and malioo. In a oiumtry of popular sway likt^ this, (horo 
is not ono man in a (liousaiul, probably, who has sudioiont iudo- 
pondonoo o[' minvl, or sutVioiont moral oonragv*, to fanoy ho has 
f*iN>n ovon a (ao(, if i(. bo o( importanoo, ditlorontly (Voiu what 
tho ovhIv o\' (ho oinnmunitv has S(H'n i( ; and nothing i.'^ uiop> 



T M K \V A Y H () I-' T It K 11 O 11 II. 'dH'.^ 

conwiiOM than to find wituoHHCs colouring their tcHtlinouy, loHH<in- 
iijg iLs force by feeble HtateiiientH, or altogetlier aburKlouin;^ tho 
truth, under this prcBHurc from without, in caHCH of a natuK; and 
magnitude to awake a strong popular feeling. It is by no meaiiH 
uncoininon, indeed, to perHuadc one claws of men, by ineauH of 
this influence;, that "they did not see that which actually occurred 
bcjfore their eyciS, or that tinjy did Hce tliat vviiicii never iiafj an 
'.existence. 

Under no circumstances do men congregate with less merito- 
rious motives than in meeting in and around a court of justice. 
'J"ii(; object is victory, and the iruians of obtaining it will not 
always bear the light. The a[)proachIng (Jircuit and Oyer and 
Terminer of Duke's was no exc';[)tion to the rule; a crowd of 
evil pasbions, of sinister practices, and of plausible prctcnccb, 
being arrayed against justice and the law, in two-thirds of tho 
causes on the calendar. Then it was that Timms and saucy 
Williams, or J)ick Williams, as he was familiarly termed l>y his 
associates, caiiK! out in their strength, playing off against each 
other the out-door practices of tho profession. The first indic.v 
tion that the former now got of the very serious character of the 
struggle that was about to take place between them, was in tho 
extraordinary civility of saucy Williams when they met in tho 
bar-room of the inn they each frequented, and which had long 
been the arena of their antagonistical wit and practiccis. 

" I never saw you look betUir, Timms,'' said Williams, in the 
most cordial manner imaginable; "on the whole, I do not re- 
member to have ever seen you looking so well. You grow youngfjr 
instead of older, every djiy of your life. By the way, do you 
intend to move on Butterficld against Town this circuit r"' 

" I should be glad to do it, if you are ready. Cross-notJces 
Lave been given, you know." 

Williams knew this very well; and he also kn(,vv that it had 
Dceu done to entitle the resp(5ctive parties to costs, in the event 



28 t Til K W A V S OK 'I- II K II () II l{ . 

1)1" :mvlliin,'!; (U'cmriiii!; io givo oiilior nido an rulvantugo; th^ 
t'MiiM) iK'iu;;- oiK^ ol' lluw^ milM oul. of which praciilioncrs uro \i)vy 
u\\l to t<x(r;irl. Ilic whoKi of lh(» kcnu^ luiforo ihoy aro Uono 
Willi \L 

" \'('M, 1 am Mwan^ of that, and I lu'lidvo w*^ arc <|iiit,o ready. 
1 .sro llmt iMr. Town is \\,vn\ and I obscrvi^ .several »)!' liis wit- 
UOSSOH ; l>iil. I li.ivt* NO nuu'Ii Imsiiicss, 1 have no wi.Mh to try a 
Ion«f slander caiiso ; words .sjiolviMi in heal, and never Ihoiiij^ht i>t' 
ui'ain, hilt, to make a. prolil, of l.lu>m." 

" \'eu are eniploytMl nj;;ainst us in the ninrder ease*, 1 hear l"' 

" I rather think the iViends of th(« deeeast>d so r»><j;anl it.; hnt 
I hav(> si'areely had tiiuo to hu)!; at Iho testimony hi^fore the 
eoroiKM'" - This was a (hdilMM'alo inyslilieation, and 'riniins jvm*- 
Cei-lly nndtM'sloed it. as siieh, well Idiowinj,!; tliat. the otluM" had 
t.'iven the outdoor work oi' the ease ni>arly all «»!' his time ler tho 
last i'orlniii;ht — "and 1 don't like to move in one of these hi,!^ 
matters without knowin<:; wliat I am ahout. Your senior eouuscl 
has not vot arrivt'd from town, I believe i"' 

"ll(^ cannot bo here until Wodiwvsday, havinji; to ar!»;\u> a 
yvc:\l insiM-aneo ease before (ho Superior Oinu't to-day and to- 
m Miinv." 

This eonversation oeenrreil aft(>r tlu» i;rand juiy hail been 
eiiarj.';ed, tlie petit jurors sworn, and the judge had heard stiveral 
motions for eorreetini:; ilu^ ealeuihir, layino; eauses over, A:e. «!^e. 
Two hours later, the Pistriet Attorney bikini:; absiMit in his room, 
onp;ngeil with the i»;raud jury, AVillianis arose, and addressed tho 
court, which had just caUod the first civil cause on (ho cahmtlar. 

" IMay it ph>ase (ho court," ho said, coolly, but with tho grave 
,is|H>et oi' a man who felt \\c was dealini; with a very serious 
inalttM- — *' there is a capital indict nuMit dejUMuling, a ease oi' arson 
and murder, which it is (he iu(en(iou of (he State to call ou a( 
juce." 

The judge lookt'd still move grave (hail (he counsel, and it wa:' 



T UK \V A y H <) K T II K H O IJ H. 2H/j 

«*iHy to sf'-(; iliul, ho (Jecply regretted it h1iouI<I f;ill l<> ii'iH lot to try' 
Bueli uii isMiif!. iJe ](;;inf;d f'orw-'inl, with an elbow on the vf;ry 
primitive sort (4' denk with whieh he wus funil;-^hed by the puhlic;, 
iiniciilcd it vvilii the [tfiliit of hin kiiif'!, ;)ri(J ;ipf)r:;in;(i to h<; [kish- 
iii^ in review Hueh of the eireuinHtaMccH of this iiriport.'Uit CAWAi 
HH he h;i<l heeoine ju><|uairited with, jiidieially. We Kay *judi- 
cialiy;* for it in not an easy thing for eith(;r judge, couriHel, or 
jurorH, in the .state of Hoeiety that now exi.stH, to ke(!j) diHtinellj 
in their iriirifJH that whi(;h has been obtained under legal evidenee, 
fnjui that whi(;li floats about the community (>\i the thouHand 
tongiieH of rumour-— fiet from fietlon. NeverthelesH, tlie re- 
Kpeetable inagiHtratrs whoH(} misfortune it wuh U) preside on this 
\(try serious oeeaslon, was a man to perform all his duty to tlie 
•"oint wliere public opinion or pripular clamour is encountered. 
The last is a bug-bear that few have moral courage to fu;e ; and 
ihe evil conse(piences are visible, hourly, daily, almost incessantly, 
in most of the interests of life. This popular feeling is the great 
moving lever of the republic; the wronged being placed beneath 
the fulcrum, while the outer arm of the engine is loaded with 
numbers. Thus it is that we sec the oldest families among us 
fjuietly rf)bbed of their estates, after generations of possession; 
tlir; honr.'st m;i.n proscribed; the knave and demagogue deified; 
m(;diociity advanced to high places; and talents and eap;u;ity 
held in ab<;yance, if not actually trampled under foot. Let the 
truth b(! said: these are evils to which each year gives additional 
force, until the tyranny <>i' the majority ha« taken a form ;inrj 
combination which, unch(!cked, must speedily plawj (^vcry per- 
sonal right at the mercy ^jf plausible, but wrong-d(jing, jjopular 
uombinations. 

" lias the prisoner be(;n arraigned?" askf'd tin; judge. "I 
remember nothing of the sort." 

" No, your honour," answered 'i'imms, now ii::ii)g I'or the fir.>t 
lime in the discussion, and looking about him as if to yxy.m tht' 



286 TUB WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

crcnd for witnesses. " The prosecution does not yet know the 
plea we shall put in." 

" You are retained for the prisoner, Mr. Timms?" 

" Yes, sir ; I appear in her behalf. But Mr. Dunscomb is 
also retained, and will be engaged in the New York Superior 
Court until Wednesday, in an insurance case of great magni- 
tude." 

" No insurance case can be of the magnitude of a trial foi 
life," returned Williams. " The justice of the State must be 
vindicated, and the person of the citizen protected." 

This sounded well, and it caused many a head in the Crowd, 
which contained both witnesses and jurors, to nod with approba- 
tion. It is true, that every thoughtful and observant man must 
have had many occasions to observe how fallacious such a de- 
claration is, in truth ; but it sounded well, and the ears of the 
multitude are always open to flattery. 

" We have no wish to interfere with the justice of the State, 
or with the protection of the citizen," answered Timms, looking 
round to note the effect of his words — "our object is to defend 
the innocent ; and the great and powerful community of New 
York will find more pleasure in seeing an accused acquitted than 
in seeing fifty criminals condemned.^' 

This sentiment sounded quite as well as that of Williams's, 
and heads were again nodded in approbation. It told particularly 
well in a paragraph of a newspaper that Timms had engaged lo 
publish what he considered his best remarks. 

" It seems to me, gentlemen," interposed the judge, who un- 
derstood the meaning of these ad captandum remarks perfectly 
well, " that your conversation is premature at least, if not alto- 
gether improper. Nothing of this nature should be said until 
die prisoner has been arraigned." 

" I submit, your honour, and acknowledge the justice of the 
reproof," Answered Williams. "I now move the court, on f» 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 28T 

halt of the District Attorney, that Mary Monson, who stands 
indicted for murder and arson, he arraigned, and her pleas en- 
tered " 

" I could wish this step might he delayed until I can hear 
from the leading counsel for the defence," objected Timmg, 
"which must now occur in the course of a very few hours/* 

" I perceive that the prisoner is a female,'' said the judge, in 
a tone of regret. 

" Yes, your honour ; she is, and young and handsome, they 
tell me," answered Williams ; "for I have never been able to 
get a sight of her. She is too much of a great lady to be seen 
at a grate, by all I can learn of her and her proceedings. Plays 
on the harp, sir; has a French valet de chambre, or something 
of that sort " 

" This is all wrong, Mr. Williams, and must be checked,'' 
again interposed the judge, though very mildly; for, while hia 
experience taught him that the object of such remarks was to 
create prejudice, and his conscioace prompted him to put an end 
to a proceeding so unrighteous, he stood in so much awe of thia 
particular counsel, who had half a dozen presses at his command^ 
that it required a strong inducement to bring him out as he 
ought to be, in opposition to any of his more decided movements. 
As for the community, with the best intentions as a whole, it 
«tood passive under this gross wrong. What ^is everybody's 
business' is literally * nobody's business,' when the public virtue 
is the great moving power ; the upright preferring their ease to 
everything else, and the ill-disposed manifesting the ceaseless 
activity of the wicked. All the ancient barriers to this species 
of injustice, which have been erected by the gathered wisdom 
of our fathers and the experience of ages, have been thrown 
down by the illusions of a seeming liberty, and the whole ma- 
chinery of justice is left very much at the mercy of an outside 
public opinion, which, in itself, is wielded by a few of the worst 



288 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

men in the country. These are sober truths, as a close examina- 
tion will show to any one who may choose to enter into the 
investigation of the ungrateful subject. It is not what is said^ 
we \erj well know ; but it is what is done. 

Williams received the mild rebuke of the judge like one who 
felt his position; paying very little respect to its spirit or its 
letter. He knew his own power, and understood perfectly well 
that this particular magistrate was soon to run for a new term of 
oflice, and might be dealt with more freely on that account. 

"I know it is very wrong, your honour — very wrong" — 
rejoined the wily counsel to what had been said — " so wrong, 
that I regard it as an insult to the State. Wlien a person is 
capitally indicted, man or w^oman, it is his or her bounden duty 
to put all overboard, that there may be no secrets. The harp 
was once a sacred instrument, and it is highly improjjer to intro- 
duce it into our gaols and criminals' cells " 

"• There is no criminal as yet — no crime can be established 
without proof, and the verdict of twelve good men and true," 
interrupted Timms — " I object, therefore, to the learned counsel' j; 
remarks, and " 

" Gentlemen, gentlemen," put in the judge, a little more 
pointedly than in liis former rebuke — " this is all wrong, I re- 
peat." 

" You perceive, my brother Timms," rejoined the indomitable 
Williams, " the court is altogether against you. This is not a 
country of lords and ladies, fiddles and harps, but of the people ; 
and when the people find a bill for a capital offence, capital care 
should be taken not to give more offence." 

Williams had provided himself with a set of supporters that 
are common enough in the courts, whose business it was to grin, 
and sneer, and smile, and look knowing at particular hits of the 
counrel, and otherwise to back up his wit, and humour, and logic, 
by tlie agency of sympathy. This expedient is getting to be 



TUB WAYS OF THE HOUR. ^89 

quite common, and is constantly practised in suits that relate, in 
any manner, to politics or political men. It is not so common, 
certainly, in trials for life ; though it may be, and has been, used 
with effect, even on such serious occasions. The influence of 
these wily demonstrations, which are made to have the appear- 
ance of public opinion, is very great on the credulous and igno- 
rant; men thus narrowly gifted invariably looking around them 
to find support in the common mind. 

The hits of Williams told, to Timms's great annoyance ; nor 
did he know exactly how to parry them. Had he been the 
assailant himself, he could have wielded the weapons of his anta- 
gonist with equal skill ; but his dexterity was very much con- 
fined to the offensive in cases of this nature; for he perfectly 
comprehended all the prejudices on which it was necessary to 
act, while he possessed but a very narrow knowledge of the 
means of correcting them. Nevertheless, it would not do to let 
the prosecution close the business of the day with so much of 
the air of triumph, and the indomitable attorney made an- 
other effort to place his client more favourably before the 
public eye. 

" The harp is a most religious instrument," he coolly observed, 
" and it has no relation to the violin, or any light and frivolous 
piece of music. David used it as the instrument of praise, and 
why should not a person who stands charged " 

" I have told you, gentlemen, that all this is irregular, and 
cannot be permitted," cried the judge, with a little more of thu 
appearance of firmness than he had yet exhibited. 

The truth was, that he stood less in fear of Timms than of 
Williams; the connection of the last with the reporters being 
known to be much the most extensive. But Timms knew his 
man, and understood very well what the committal of counsel 
had got to be, under the loose notions of liberty that have grown 
ap in the country within the last twenty years. Time was, and 

13 



290 THE WAYS O ¥ T HE HO U K. 

that at no remote period, when the lawyer who had been thii 
treated for indecorum atcthe bar would have been a disgraced 
man, and would have appealed in vain to the community for 
sympathy; little or none would he have received. Men tlicn 
understood that the law was their master, established by them- 
selves, and was to be respected accordingly. But that feeling is 
in a great measure extinct. Liberty is every hour getting to bo 
more and more personal ; its concentration consisting in render- 
ing every man his own legislator, his own judge, and his own 
juror. It is monarchical and aristocratic, and all that is vile and 
dangerous, to see power exercised by any but the people ; those 
whom the constitution and the laws have set apart expressly to 
discharge a delegated authority being obliged, by clamours sus- 
tained by all the arts of cupidity and fraud, to defer to the pass- 
ing opinions of the hour. No one knew this better than Timras, 
who had just as lively a recollection as his opponent that this 
very judge was to come before the people, in the next autumn, 
as a candidate for re-election. The great strain of American 
foresight was consequently applied to this man's conscience, who, 
over-worked and under-paid, was expected to rise above the weak- 
nesses of humanity, as a sort of sublimated political theory that 
is getting to be much in fashion, and which, if true, would super- 
sede the necessity of any court or any government at all. Timms 
knew this well, and was not to be restrained by one who was thus 
stretched, as it might be, on the tenter-hooks of political uncer- 
tainty. 

" Yes, your honour," retorted this indomitable individual, " 1 
am fully aware of its impropriety, and was just as much so when 
the counsel for the prosecution was carrying it on to the injury 
of my client; I might say almost unchecked, if not encou- 
raged." 

" The court did its best to stop Mr. Williams, sir; and must 
do the same to keep you within the proper limits of prartico. 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 2i< I 

rinless these improprieties are restrained, I shall confine the 
counsel for the State to the regular officer, and assign new couQoel 
to the accused, as from the court." 

Both Williams and Timms looked amused at this menace, 
neither having the smallest notion the judge dare put such a 
threat in execution. What! presume to curb licentiousness 
when it chose to assume the aspect of human rights ? This was 
an act behind the age, more especially in a country in which 
liberty is so fast getting to be all means, with so very little 
regard to the end. 

A desultory conversation ensued, when it was finally settled 
tliat the trial must be postponed until the arrival of the counsel 
expected from town. From the beginning of the discussion, 
Williams knew such must be the termination of that day's work ; 
but he had accomplished two great objects by his motion. In 
the first place, by conceding delay to the accused, it placed the 
pronecution on ground where a similar favour might be asked, 
should it be deemed expedient. This resisting of motions for 
delay is a common ruse of the bar, since it places the party whose 
rights are seemingly postponed in a situation to demand a similar 
concession. Williams knew that his case was ready as related to 
his brief, the testimony, and all that could properly be produced 
in court ; but he thought it might be strengthened out of doors, 
among the jurors and the witnesses. We say, the witnesses; be- 
cause even this class of men get their impressions, quite fre- 
quently, as much from what they subsequently hear, as from 
what they have seen and inow. A good reliable witness, who 
i-elates no more than he actually knows, conceals nothing, colourj 
nothing, and leaves a perfectly fair impression of the truth, is 
perhaps the rarest of all the parties concerned in the administra- 
tion of justice. No one understood this better than Williams; 
and his agents were, at that very moment, actively employe<l ip 



292 1 II E WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

endcavouriug to persuade certain individuals that they knew u 
great deal more of the facts connected with the murders, than 
the truth would justify. This was not done openly or directly ; 
not in a way to alarm the consciences or pride of those who were 
to be duped, but by the agency of hints, and suggestions, and 
plausible reasonings, and all the other obvious devices, by means 
of which the artful and unprincipled are enabled to act on the 
opinions of the credulous and inexperienced. 

While all these secret engines were at work in the streets (;f 
Bibcrry, the external machinery of justice was set in motion with 
the usual forms. Naked, but business-like, the blind goddess was 
invoked with what is termed " republican simplicity," one of the 
great principles of which, in some men's estimation, is to get the 
maximum of work at the minimum of cost. We are no advocates 
for the senseless parade and ruthless expenditure — ruthless, be- 
cause extracted from the means of the poor — with which the 
governments of the old world have invested their dignity ; and 
we believe that the reason of men may be confided in, in ma- 
naging these matters, to a certain extent; though not to the 
extent that it would seem to be the fashion of the American 
theories, to be desirable. Wigs of all kinds, even when there is a 
deficiency of hair, we hold in utter detestation; and we shall 
maintain that no more absurd scheme of clothing the human 
countenance with terror was ever devised, than to clothe it with 
flax. Nevertheless, as comfort, decency and taste unite in re- 
commending clothing of some sort or other, we do not see why 
the judicial functionary should not h«\^e his appropriate attire as 
well as the soldier, the sailor, or the priest. It docs not neces- 
barily follow that extravagances are to be imitated if we subnnl 
to this practice ; though we incline to the opinion that a great 
deal of the nakedness of " republican simplicity," which has got 
to be a sort of political idol in the land, has its origin in a sph-it 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 293 

that denounces the past as a species of moral sacnicc to the 
present time. 

Let all this be as it may, it is quite certain that " republican 
gimplicity" — the slang lever by means of which the artful move 
the government — has left the administration of justice among 
us, so far as externals arc concerned, as naked as may be. In- 
deed, so much have the judges become exposed to sinister influ- 
ences, by means of the intimacies with which they are invested 
by means of "republican simplicity," that it has been found 
expedient to make a special provision against undue modes of 
approaching their ears, all of which would have been far more 
efficiently secured by doubling their salaries, making a respecta- 
ble provision for old age in the way of pensions, and surrounding 
them with such forms as would keep the evil-disposed at a rea- 
sonable distance. Neither Timms nor "saucy Williams," how- 
ever, reasoned in this fashion. They were, in a high degree, 
practical men, and saw things as they are ; not as they ought tc 
be. Little was either troubled with theories, regrets, or princi- 
ples. It was enough for each that he was familiar with the 
workings of the system under which he lived; and which he 
knew how to pervert in a way the most likely to effect his own 
purposes. 

The reader may be surprised at the active pertinacity with 
which Williams pursued one on trial for her life; a class of per- 
sons with whom the bar usually professes to deal tenderly and in 
mercy. But the fact was that he had been specially retained by 
the next of kin, who had large expectations from the abstracted 
hoards of his aunt ; and that the fashion of the day had enabled 
him to achieve such a cent per cent bargain with his client, as 
caused his own compensation altogether to depend on the mea- 
kiure of his success. Should Mary Monson be sentenced to the 
eallows, it was highly probable her revelations would put the 



294 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

wronged in the way of being riglitcd, when this limb of the law 
would, in all probability, come in for a full share of the reco- 
vered gold. How difl'erent all this was from the motives and 
conduct of Dunscomb, the reader will readily perceive ; for, while 
the profession in this country abounds with Williams's and 
I'ininis's, men of the highest tone of feeling, the fairest practice, 
und the clearest i)erccptiouB of what ifl right, are by no laciiriH 
titmngei'H to the bai\ 



T !l i: V.' A Y S O K T 11 K II O U K. 295 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

"TIiou li:i8t already racked inc witli thy sf.iy; 
Therefore require me not to ask thee twice: 
Reply at once to all. What is concluded ?" 

Mouridnjj Bride. 

DuruNcj the interval between the occurrence of the scene iu 
court that has just been related, and the appearance of Dunsconih 
at l>iberry, the community was rapidly taking sides on the subject 
of the guilt or innocence of Mary Monson. The windows of the 
gaol were crowded all day; throngs collecting there to catch 
glimpses of the extraordinary female, who was rightly enough 
reported to be living in a species of luxury in so unusual a place, 
and who was known to play on an instrument that the popular 
mind was a good deal disposed to regard as sacred. As a matter 
of course, a hundred stories were in circulation, touching the 
charaujter, history, sayings and doings of this remarkable person, 
that had no foundation whatever in truth ; for it is an infirmity 
of human nature to circulate and place its belief in falsehoods of 
this sort; and more especially of human nature as it is exhibited 
in a country where care has been taken to stimulate the curiosity 
of the vulgar, without exactly placing them in a condition to ap 
pease its longings, either intelligently or in a very good taste. 

This interest would have been manifested, in such a case, had 
there been no particular moving cause ; but the secret practicet: 
of Williams and Tinims greatly increased its intensity, and was 
bringing the population of Duke's to a state of excitement that 
;v.-us very little favourable to an impartial administration of jiiS' 



200 THE WAYS OF THE HO I' 11. 

ticc. Discussions had taken place at every corner, and in all tlie 
bar-rooms ; and many were the alleged facts connected with the 
murders, which had their sole existence in rumour, that was ad« 
daced in the heat of argument, or to make out a supposititious 
case. All this time, Williams was either in court, attending 
closely to his different causes, or was seen passing between the 
court-house and the tavern, with bundles of papers under his 
arms, like a man absorbed in business. Timms played a veiy 
similar part, though he found leisure to hold divers conferences 
with several of his confidential agents. Testimony was his aim ; 
and, half a dozen times, when he fancied himself on the point 
of establishing something new and important, the whole of the 
ingenious fabric he had reared came tumbling about his ears, in 
consequence of some radical defect in the foundation. 

Such was the state of things on the evening of Wednesday, 
the day preceding that which had been set down for the trial, 
when the stage arrived bringing " 'Squire Dunscomb," his carpet- 
bags, his trunk, and his books. McBrain shortly after drove up 
in his own carriage ; and Anna was soon in her mother's arms. 
The excitement, so general in the place, had naturally enough 
extended to these females ; and Mrs. McErain and her daughter 
were soon closeted, talking over the affair of Mary Monson. 

About eight that evening, Dunscomb and Timms were busy, 
looking over minutes of testimony, briefs, and other written do- 
cuments that were connected with the approaching trial. Mi's. 
Horton had reserved the best room in her house for this distin- 
guished counsel ; an apai'tment in a wing that was a good deal 
removed from the noise and bustle of a leading inn, during a 
circuit. Here Dunscomb had been duly installed, and here he 
early set up " his tra})s," as he termed his flesh-brushes, sponges, 
briefs, and calfskin-covered volumes. Two tallow candles threw 
a dim, lawyer-like light on the scene ; while unrolled paper-cur- 
tains shut out as much of night as such an imperfert screeir 



THE WAYS OF THE II O U K. 297 

could exclude. The odour of segars — cxcelleiit Ilavannas, by 
the way — was fragrant in the place ; and one of the little foun- 
tains of smoke was stuck knowingly in a corner of the eminent 
eounsel's mouth, while Timms had garnished his skinny lips 
with the short stump of a pipe. Neither said anything ; one of 
the parties presenting documents that the other read in silence. 
Such was the state of matters, when a slight tap at the door waa 
succeeded by the unexpected appearance of " saucy Williams." 
Tiraras started, gathered together all his papers with the utmost 
care, and awaited the explanation of this unlooked-for visit with 
the most lively curiosity. Dunscomb, on the other hand, received 
his guest with urbanity, and like one who felt that the wrangling 
of the bar, in which, by the way, he had too much self-respect 
and good temper to indulge, had no necessary connection with 
the courtesies of private life. 

Williams had scarcely a claim superior to those of Timms, to 
be considered a gentleman; though he had the advantage of 
having been what is termed liberally educated — a phrase of very 
doubtful import, when put to the test of old-fashioned notions on 
such subjects. In manners, he had the defects, and we may add 
the merits, of the school in which he had been educated. All 
that has been said of Timms on this subject, in the way of cen- 
sure, was equally applicable to Williams ; but the last possessed 
a self-command, an admirable reliance on his own qualities, which 
would have fitted him, as regards this one quality, to be an em- 
peror. Foreigners wonder at the self-possession of Americans in 
the presence of the great ; and it is really one of the merits of the 
institutions that it causes every person to feel that he is a man, 
and entitled to receive the treatment due to a being so high in 
the scale of earthly creations. It is true, that this feeling often 
iegenerates into a vulgar and over-sensitive jealousy, frequently 
rendering its possessor exacting and ridiculous; but, on tho 
\hole, the effect is manlj^, not to say ennobling. 



25)8 T II K WAYS o i<' T Ji rc il O II R. 

Now, AVilliams w.iH holf-posscsHod hy iiaturo, an well :iH by 
USKociation and (iducation. Thougli keenly alive to the difleiencofi 
iMid elianccs of fortune, ho never Huccunibcd to mere rank and 
wealdi. Intriguing by diyposition, not to .say hy ediieation, ho 
could Jiileet a deference he did not feel; but, ;ii)art from the posi- 
tive eonse(pu!nces of power, he was not to be daunted by the 
presence of the most niagnilieent aovereign who ever reigned 
No wonder, then, tliat he felt cpiite at home in the eonjj)aJiy of 
lii.M ])resent host; though fully aware that ho was one of the 
leatling members of the New York bar. Asaproof of this inde- 
pendence maybe cited the fact that he liad no sooner paid his 
salutations and been invited to be seated, than he deliberately 
selected a segar from the open box of J)unscoml), lighted it, took 
a chair, raised one leg coolly on the corner of a table, and began 
to smoke. 

" The calendar is a little crowded," observed this free-and-easy 
visiter, " and is likely to carry us over into the njiddle of next 
week. Are you retained in Daniels against Fireman's Insu- 
rance T' 

" i am not — a lirief was oilered by the plaintifl', but T declined 
taking it." 

" A little conscientious, I suppose. Well, T leave all the sin 
of my suits on the shoulders of my clients. ]t is bad enough to 
listen to their griefs, without being called on to smart for them. 
I have heard you are in (yogswell against Davidson T' 

" In that cause 1 have been retained. I may as well say, at 
once, we intend to move it on." 

" It's of no great moment — if you beat us at the circuit, our 
turn will come on execution." 

" I believe, IMr. Williams, your clients have a knack at gaining 
the day in that mode. It is of no great interest to me, however, 
as I rarely take the management of a cause aftiT it quiUs the 
courts." 



THE WAYS OF THE II OUR. 299 

" llow do you like the Code, brother Dunscomb?" 

" Damnable, sir. I am too old, in the first place, to like 
change. Then change from bad to worse is adding folly to im. 
hccility. The Conjraon Law practice had its faults, I allow; but 
this new system has no merits." 

"I do not go as far as that; and I rather begin to like the 
new plan of remuneration. We are nothing out of pocket, and 
Bometimes are a handsome sum in. You defend Mary Monson?" 

Tinims felt assured that his old antagonist had now reached 
the case that had really brought him to the room. He fidgeted, 
looked eagerly round to see that no stray paper could fall beneath 
the hawk-like eye of the other party, and then sat in comparative 
composure, waiting the result. 

" I do,'' JJunscomb quietly replied ; " and 1 shall do it con 
amore — I suppose you know what that means, Mr. Williams?'' 

A sarcastic smile passed over the steeled 30untenance of the 
other, his appearance being literally sardonic for an instant. 

" I presume I do. We know enough Latin in Duke's to get 
along with such a quotation; though our friend Timms here de- 
spises the classics. ^ Con amore' means, in this instance, a ' lover's 
zeal,' I suppose; for they tell me that all who approach the 
criminal submits to her power to charm," 

" The accused, if you please," put in the opposing attoriKiy ; 
" but no criminal, until the word ' gulllif has been pronounced." 

" I am convicted. They say you are to be the happy man, 
Timms, in the event of an acquittal. It is reported all over the 
ODunty, that you are to become Mr. Monson as a reward for your 
services; and if half tliat I hear be true, you will deserve her, 
with a good estate in the bargain." 

Here Williams laughed heartily at his own wit; but Duns- 
>mb looked grave, while his associate counsel looked angry. Tn 
point of fact the nail had been hit on the head ; and conscious- 
'JCS3 lighted the spirit within, with its calm, mild glow. Thr 



^00 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

senior joimsel was too proud, and too dignified, to make any re- 
ply ; but Timms was troubled with no sucb feeling. 

" If there are any such rumours in old Duke's/' retorted the 
last, "it will not need mesmerism to discover their author. In 
my opinion, the people ought to carry on their suits in a spirit 
of liberality and justice ; and not in a vindictive, malicious tem- 
per." 

" We are all of the same way of thinking," answered "Wil- 
liams, with a sneer. " I consider it liberal to give you a hand- 
bome young woman with a full purse ; though no one can say 
how, or by whom, it has been filled. By the way, Mr. Danscomb, 
I am instructed to make a proposal to you ; and as Timms is in 
the court, this may be as good a moment as another to present it 
for consideration. My ofier is from the nephew, next of kin, and 
sole heir of the late Peter Goodwin ; by whom, as you probably 
know, I am retained. This gentleman is well assured that his 
deceased relatives had a large sum in gold by them, at the time 
of the murders " 

" No verdict has yet shown that there has been any murders 
at all," interrupted Timms. 

" We have the verdict of the inquest, begging your pardon, 
brother Timms — that is something, surely ; though not enough, 
quite likely, to convince your mind. But, to proceed with my 
proposition : — My client is well assured that such a secret fund 
existed. He also knows that your client, gentlemen, is flush of 
money, and money in gold coins that correspond with many pieces 
that have been seen by different individuals in the possession of 
our aunt " 

^^ Aj, eagles and half-eagles," interrupted Timms — "a resem- 
bhnice that comes from the stamp of the mint." 

" Go on with your proposition, IMr. Williams" — said Dunsr 
:omb. 

" We offer to withdraw all our extra counsel, myself included. 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 301 

and to leave the case altogether with the State, which is wcvy 
much the same thing as an acquittal ; provided you will return to 
us five thousand dollars in this gold coin. Not pay, for that 
might; be compounding a felony; but relurn." 

" There could be no compounding a felony, if the indictment 
be not quashed, but traversed," said the senior counsel for the 
defence. 

" Yery true ; but we prefer the word ' return.' That leaves 
everything clear, and will enable us to face the county. Our 
object is to get our rights — let the State ta>e care of its justice 
for itself." 

"■ You can hardly expect that such a proposition should be 
accepted, Williams?'' 

" I am not so sure of that, Timms; life is sweeter than money 
even. I should like to hear the answer of your associate, how- 
ever. You, I can see, have no intention of lessening the marriage 
portion, if it can be helped." 

Such side-hits were so common in court, as between these 
worthies, that neither thought much of them out of court. But 
Williams gave a signal proof of the acuteness of his observation, 
when he expressed a wish to know in what light his proposal was 
viewed by Dunscomb. That learned gentleman evidently paid 
more respect to the offer than had been manifested by his asso- 
ciate; and now sat silently rmuinating on its nature. Thus 
directly appealed to, he felt the necessity of giving some sort of 
an answer. 

" You have come expressly to make this proposition to us, 
Mr. Williams ?" Dunscomb demanded. 

" To be frank with you, sir, such is the main object of my 
visit." 

" Of course it is sanctioned by your client, and you speak by 
authority ?'' 

" It is fully sanctioned by my client, who would greatly prefei 



;^02 THE w ays of the hour. 

the plau ; and I act directly hy his written iustructious. Nothing 
sliort of these would induce me to make the proposition." 

" Very well, sir. Will an answer by ten o'clock this evening 
meet your views?" 

" Perfectly so. An answer at any time between this and the 
Bitting of the court to-morrow morning, will fully meet our views. 
The terms, however, cannot be diminished. Owing to the short- 
ness of the time, it may be well to understand that." 

*' Then, Mr. Williams, I ask a little time for reflection and 
consultation. We may meet again to-night." 

The other assented, rose, coolly helped himself to another 
BCgar, and had got as far as the door, when an expressive gesture 
from Timms induced him to pause. 

"Let us understand each other," said the last, with em- 
phasis. " Is this a truce, with a complete cessation of hostili- 
ties ; or is it only a negotiation to be carried on in the midst of 
war?" 

" I hardly comprehend your meaning, Mr. Timms. The ques- 
tion is simply one of taking certain forces — allied forces, they 
may be called — from the field, and leaving you to contend only 
with the main enemy. There need be nothing said of a truce, 
since nothing further can be done until the court opens." 

" That may do very well, Williams, for those that haven't 
practised in Duke's as long as myself; but it will not do for me. 
There is an army of reporters here, at this moment; and I am 
afraid that the allies of whom you speak have whole corps of 
skirmishers." 

Williams maintained a countenance so unmoved that even tho 
judicious Timms was a little shaken ; while Dunscomb, who had 
all the reluctance of a gentleman to believe in an act r f mean- 
ness, felt outraged by his associate's suspicions. 

" Come, come, Mr. Timms," the last exclaimed, " I beg we 
.iiay have no more of this. Mr. Williams has come with a pro- 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. .TO'5 

position worcby of our consideration ; let us meet il iu the spirit 
in which it is offered." 

^' Yes," repeated AVilliams, with a look that might well havb 
explained his sobriquet of 'saucy;' yes, in the spirit iu which it 
is offered. What do you say to that, Timras ?" 

" That I shall manage the defence precisely as if no such pro- 
position had been made, or any negotiation accepted. You cau 
do the same for the prosecution." 

"Agreed!" Williams rejoined, making a sweeping gesture 
with his hand, and immediately quitting the room. 

Dunscomb was silent for a minute. A thread of smoke arose 
from the end of his segar ; but the volume no longer poured from 
between his lips. He was ruminating too intensely even to 
smoke. Eising suddenly, he took his hat, and motioned towards 
the door. 

" Timms, we must go to the gaol," he said ; " Mary JMonsou 
must be spoken to at once." 

" If Williams had made his proposition ten days ago, there 
might be some use in listening to it," returned the junior, follow- 
ing the senior counsel from the room, carrying all the papers in 
the cause under an arm ; " but, now that all the mischief is done, 
it would be throwing away five thousand dollars to listen to his 
proposition." 

" We will see — we will see," answered the other, hurrying 
down stairs — " what means the rumpus in that room, Timms ? 
Mrs. Horton has not treated me well, to place a troublesome 
neighbour so near me. I shall stop and tell her as much, as we 
go through the hall." 

" You had better not, 'Squire. We want all our friends jut7 
aow; and a sharp word might cause us to lose this woman, who 
has a devil of a tongue. She tells me that a crazy man was 
brought here privately; and, being well paid for it, she has con- 
sented to give him what she calls her ' drunkard's parlour,' until 



•'^04 T n K WAYS OF THE HO. R. 

Iho court has settled his alVair. His room, like your own, ib sC 
niiah out of Jie way, that the poor fellow gives very little trou- 
ble to the groat body of the boarders.'* 

"Ay, very little trouble to you, aud tlie rest of 3'ou, in thr 
uiaiu building; but ;i great deal io lue. I shall speak to Mrs 
llorton on the subject, as we pass out." 

" B:tter not, 'Squire. The woman is our friend now, I know ; 
but a warm word may turn her to the right-about." 

It is probable Dunscomb was influenced by his companion; 
for he left the house without putting his threat in execution. In 
a f<?w minutes he and Timms were at the gaol. As counsel could 
not well be refused admission to their client on the eve of trial, 
the two lawyers were admitted to the gallery within the outer 
door that has been so often mentioned. Of course, Mary JMonson 
was notified of the visit ; and she received them with Anna Up- 
ilyke, the good, gentle, considerate Anna, who was ever disposed 
to help the weak and to console the unhappy, at her side. Puns- 
comb had no notion that the intimacy had grown to this head ; 
but when he came to reflect that one of the parties was to bo 
tried for her life next day, he was disposed to overlook the mani- 
fest indiscretion of his old favourite in being in such a place. 
INFrs. McBrain's presence released him from all responsibility; 
and he returned the warm pressure of Anna's hand in kindness, 
if not with positive approbation. As for the girl herself, the 
very sight of " Uncle Tom," as she had so long been accustomed 
to call the counsellor, cheered her heart, and raised new hopes in 
behalf of her friend. 

In a few clear, pointed words, Punscomb let the motive of his 
visit be known. There was little time to throw away, and he 
went directly at his object, stating everything succinctly, but in 
tlic most intelligilde manner. Nothing could have been more 
palm than the manner in which Mary Monson listened to his 
^t-\tement ; her deportment being as steady as that of one sitting 



THE WAYS OF THE II o u K. ;j05 

m judgment herself, rather than that of a pcr.son whose own fate 
was involved in the issue. 

" It is a large sum to raise in so short a time/' continued the 
kJnd-hoarted Dunscomh; " hut I deem the proposition so impo'*- 
tant to your interest, tliat, ratlier tlian lose this advantage, 1 
would not hesitate about advancing tlie money myself, should 
you he unprepared for so heavy a demand/' 

*' As respects the money, Mr. Dunscomh," returned the fair 
[•risoner, in the most easy and natural manner, " that need give 
us no concern. By sending a confidential messenger to town — 
Mr. John Wilmeter, for instance" — here Anna pressed less 
closely to her friend's side — "it would be very easy to have five 
hundred eagles or a thousand half-eagles here, by breakfast-time 
to-morrow. It is not on account of any such difficulty that I 
hesitate a moment. What I dislike is the injustice of the thing. 
I have never touched a cent of poor Mrs. Goodwin's hoard ; and 
it would be false to admit that I am returning that which I never 
received." 

" We must not be particular, ma'am, on immaterial points, 
wlien there is so much at stake." 

" It may be immaterial whether I pay money under one form 
or another, Mr. Dunscomb ; but it cai^pot be immaterial to my 
future standing, whether I am acquitted in the teeth of this Mr. 
Williams's opposition, or under favour of his purchase." 

" Acquitted ! Our case is not absolutely clear, Miss Monson — > 
it is my duty to tell you as much !" 

" I- understand such to be the opinion of both Mr. Timms and 
yourself, sir ; I like the candour of your conduct, but am not 
converted to your way of thinking. I shall be acquitted, gentle- 
'.nen — yes, honourably, triumphantly acquitted; and I cannot 
-jonsent to lessen the impression of such a termination to my 
affair, by putting myself in the way of being even suspected of u 
collusion with a mau like this saucy Williams. It is far better 



306 THE WAYS OF TUB HOUR. 

to meet him openly, and to defy liim to do his worst. Perhaps 
Bcme such trial, followed by complete success, will be necessary 
to my future happiness/' 

Anna now pressed nearer to the side of her friend ; passing an 
arm, unconsciously to herself, around her waist. As for Duns- 
comb, he gazed at the handsome prisoner in a sort of stupefied 
wonder. The place, the hour, the business of the succeeding 
day, and all the accessories of the scene, had an effect to increase 
the confusion of his mind, and, for the moment, to call in ques- 
tion the fidelity of his senses. As he gazed at the prison-like 
aspect of the gallery, his eye fell on the countenance of Mario 
Moulin, and rested there in surprise for half a minute. The 
Swiss maid was looking earnestly at her mistress, with an ex 
pression of concern and of care so intense, that it caused the 
counsellor to search for their cause. For the first time it flashed 
on his mind that Mary Monson might be a lunatic, and that the 
defence so often set up in capital cases as to weary tlie common 
mind, might be rendered justly available in this particular in- 
stance. The whole conduct of this serving-woman had been so 
singular; the deportment of Mary Monson herself was so much 
out of the ordinary rules ; and the adhesion of Anna Updyke, 
a girl of singular prudence of conduct, notwithstanding her dis- 
position to enthusiasm, so marked, that the inference was far 
from unnatural. Nevertheless, Mary Monson had never looked 
more calm, more intellectual ; never manifested more of a mien 
of high intelligence, than at that very instant. The singular 
illumination of the countenance to which we have had occasion 
already to allude, was conspicuous, but it was benignant and 
(pict; and the flush of the cheeks added lustre to her eyes. 
Then the sentiments expressed were just and noble, free from 
the cunning and mendacity of a maniac ; and such as any man 
might be proud to have the wife of his bosom entertain. All 
these considerations quickly chased the rising distrust from Duns 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. SOl 

comb'w mind, and Lis thoughts reverted to the business that had 
brought him there. 

" You are the best judge, ma'am, of what will most contributfi 
to your happiness,'' rejoined the counsellor, after a brief pause. 
" Tn the ignorance in which we are kept of the past, I might 
well add, the only judge ; though it is possible that your female 
oompanions know more, in this respect, than your legal advisers. 
It is proper I should say, once more, and probably for the laat 
time, that your case will be greatly prejudiced unless you enablo 
ul' to dwell on your past life freely and truly." 

" I am accused of murdering an unoffending female and her 
husband ; of setting fire to the dwelling, and of robbing them of 
their gold. These are accusations that can properly be answered 
only by a complete acquittal, after a solemn investigation. No 
half-way measures will do. I must be found not guilty, or a blot 
rests on my character for life. My position is singular — I had 
almost said cruel — in some respects owing to my own wilful- 
ness " 

Here Anna Updyke pressed closer to her friend's side, as if 
she would defend her against these self-accusations ; while Marie 
Moulin dropped her needle, and listened with the liveliest 
curiosity. 

" In many respects, perhaps," continued Mary, after a short 
pause, " and I must take the consequences. Wilfulness has ever 
been my greatest enemy. It has been fed by perfect independ- 
ence and too much money. I doubt if it be good for woman to 
be thus tried. We were created for dependence, Mr. Dunscomb ; 
dependence on our fathers, on our brothers, and perhaps on our 
husbands" — here there was another pause; and the cheeks of 
the fair speaker flushed, while her eyes became brilliant to light 

^'Perhaps !" repeated the counsellor, with solemn emphasis. 

"I know that men think differently from us on this sub- 
ject " 



808 T II E AV A Y S OF T II K II () V 11. 

'" From MS — do you desire me to Lcliove that most womoii 
wish to bo iudcpcndcnt of their hiisb«inds? Ask the youn^ 
woman at your side, if that bo her feeling of the duties of hei 
sex." 

Anna dropped her head on her bosom, and bhished scarlet. 
Ill all her day-dreams of happiness with John Wilmeter, the very 
reverse of the feeling now alluded to, had been uppermost in her 
mind ; and to her nothing had over seemed half as sweet as the 
picture of leaning on him for support, guidance, authority, and 
advice. The thought of independence would have been painful 
to her; for a principle of nature, the instinct of her sex, taught 
her that the part of woman Avas ^' to love, honour, and obey." As 
for Mary Monson, she quailed a little before the severe eye of 
Diinscomb; but education, the accidents of life, and possibl}'^ a 
secret principle of her peculiar temperament, united to stimulate 
her to maintain her original ground. 

" I Icnow not what may be the particular notions of Miss IJp- 
dylvc,'' returned this singular being, "but I can feel my own 
longings. They are all for independence. Men have not dealt 
fairly by women. Possessing the power, they have made all the 
laws, fashioned all the opinions of the world, in their own favour. 
Let a woman err, and she can never rise from her fall ; while 
men live with impunity in the midst of their giiilt. If a woman 
think differently from those around her, she is expected to con- 
ceal her opinions, in order to receive those of her masters. Even 
in the worship of God, the highest and most precious of all our 
duties, she is expected to play a secondary pai*t, and act as if the 
Christian Faith favoured the sentiment of another, which tcachcH 
that women have no souls." 

" All this is as old as the repinings of a very treacherous na- 
ture, young lady," answered Duuscomb, coolly; "and I havo 
often heard it before. It is not surprising, however, that a young, 
handsome, highlv-educated, and I presume rich, person of your 



/ 

THE WAYS O 5 THE H O U H. 309 

sex, should be seduced by notions seemingly so attractive, and 
long for what she will be apt to term the emancipation of her 
sex. This is an age of emancipation ; prudent grey-headed men 
become deluded, and exhibit their folly by succumbing to a wild 
and exceedingly silly philanthropical hurrah ! Even religion is 
emancipated ! There are churches, it is true ; but they exist as 
appendages of society, instead of being divine institutions, estab- 
lished for the secret purposes of unerring wisdom ; and we hear 
men openly commending this or that ecclesiastical organization, 
because it has more or less of the savour of republicanism. But 
one new dogma remains to be advanced — that the government 
of the universe is democratical — in which the ' music of the 
spheres' is a popular song ; and the disappearance of a world a 
matter to be referred to the people in their primary capacity. 
Among other absurdities of the hour is a new law, giving to 
married women the control of their property, and drawing a line 
of covetousness across the bolster of every marriage bed in the 
State I" 

" Surely, Mr. Dunscomb, a man of your integrity, character, 
manliness, and principles, would defend the weaker sex in the 
maintenance of its rights against prodigality, tyranny, and ne- 
glect!'' 

" These are so many words, my dear ma'am, and are totally 
without meaning, when thoroughly sifted. God created woman 
to be a help-meet to man — to comfort, solace, and aid him in his 
pursuit after worldly happiness ; but always in a dependent rela- 
tion. The marriage condition, viewed in its every-day aspect, has 
sufficient causes of disagreement, without drawing in this of pro- 
perty. One of the dearest and nearest of its ties, indeed, that 
of a perfect identification of interests, is at once cut off by this 
foolish, not to say wicked attempt to light the torch of contention 
in every household. It were better to teach our women not to 
throw themselves away on men who cannot be trusted; to incul 



310 T II K W A Y S () K '!• II K II () II k. 

I'ato the nocoNMily of nol. in:irryin|!; in linsio to ivpcnfc at leisure, 
than to tiuk(T tho old, voncrublo, and long-tried usages of our 
fnthors, by crotirhi'ts that coiuo far more from the fovorish lunla- 
rity of i^!;iioraiKT, tliaii from ])liilos()})liy or Avisdom. Why, unlcsa 
tho courlM iutiM-pose (licir pnuliMiec to roctify tlio bhmdorH of tho 
l(>i!;islature, as they have already done a hundred times, tho 
labourer's wife may have her aetion against her husband for tho 
oartluMi bowl he has broken ; and the man may be sued by the 
wife for rent! The happiness of every home is hourly put in 
jeopardy, in order that, now and then, a wife may be saved from 
the eourses of a. s|)(H'nlator or a speniltbrift." 

" IMight not this have bcvn done lu'fore, unele Tom, by means 
of settlements r* asked Anna, with interest. 

" (\M-taiidy ; and that it is whieh renders all this silly <|uaekery 
so mueh the worse. In those eases in whieh the magnitude of 
Ihe stake might seiMu to demand extraordinary eare, the means 
alit>ady existed for ]>roviding all useful safeguards; and any new 
legislation was (piite lumeeessary. This very law will produeo 
twenty-fold mon^ unhappinoss in families, than it will prevent of 
misery, by setting up distinct, and often contlieting interests, 
an»ong those who ought to live as * bono of their bone, and flesh 
of their flesh." 

'' You tlo not give to woman her proper i)laee in soeiety, 1^1 r. 
hnnseomb," returned IMary IMonson, haughtily; ''your eom- 
nuMits are those of a bachelor. 1 have heard of a eert^iin Miss 
Millington, who once had an intoi-ost with you, and who, if living, 
would havi' taught you juster sentiments on this subject." 

Dunsei^mb turned as white as a sheet; his hand ami lip (pii- 
vered ; and all desire to continue the discourse suddenly left him. 
The g(Mit]e Anna, ever att<uitive to his wishes and ailing-s, stt^lo 
to his side, silently otVering a glass of wator. She had seen this 
.igitation b(»f(U-i\ and knew there was a leaf in " Uncle Tom'a" 
liistory that he ilid not wish every vulgar eye to reaiL 



TIIK W A V y OK IIIK II () IJ It. 311 

As for Mary Mouson, slio went into her cell, liko one who do- 
olined any further communication with her counsel. Timms was 
ptruc'k with her lofty and decided manner; but stood too much 
ill awe of her, to interpose a remonstrance. After a few minutes 
taken by Dunscomb to regain his self-command, and a brief con- 
sultation together, the two lawyers quitted the prison. All this 
time, the accused remained in her cell, in resentful silepce, 
closely and anxiously watched by the searching eye of her Bomor 
attondojit. 



;U ii T H K >\ A Y S O V T II K H O V K 



CUAPTKR XIX. 

'* M«<tluiiks, if, as I oiu'SK, the t'uilt 's hut small, 
It mijijht bo panlotud." 

The OriA:JL 

pKUiiArs 110 suivr tost of high prhioiplos, as it is cortain no 
luoiv aoour.ito tost of high brooding oaii bo fouiul, than a distaste 
for injurious gossip. In Nvon\:ui, subjoot as sho is unqnostionably 
by hor oduoation, habits, and aotivo ouriosity, to tho inihionoo of 
this vioo, its oxistonoo is doploniblo, loading to a thousjind wrongs, 
nmong tho ohiof oi' whioh is a fjilsc approoiation of oui*solvos; 
but, whon nion submit to so vilo a proponsity, thoy booonio oou- 
toniptiblo, as woll as ^Yiokod. As a rosnlt of hnig obsorvation, 
wo should s^iy that those who are most obnoxious to tho just 
condonmation o( (ho world, nro tho most addiotod to linding faults 
in othors; and it is imly tho oomparativoly good, who are so bo 
causo thoy aro hnmblo, that abstain from r.ioddling and dealing 
in soandal. 

AVlion ono rofloots on tho groat amount of injustioo that is thus 
intliotod, without even tho most remote hope of reparation, how 
fu- a lovv^o. ill-eonsidorod and ignorant remark will tloat on tho 
tongues o( tho idle, how muoh nnmoritod misery is oftentimes 
entailed by suoh nnweighed assertions and opinions, and how 
small is the return of bonoiit in any form whatever, it would 
almost appear a i\oeess;\ry nionil eonsoipioneo that tho world, by 
geiioral Ov^nsont, would determine to eradioate so pernioious an 
evil, in the eommon interest o( mankind. Tliat it does not, is 



TIIK WAYH OF T II K HOUR. 313 

probably owing to tlio power Uial, in Hiill \cil in \.\i(: linridH of ilio 
l<alJj(;r of Sin, by U»o Infinito Wisdom that liaH woti fit to ])hu'Ai 
UH in tliis oon'b'tiori of trial. Tlio jaront f)f all licH, goHsip, in 
OIK! of tlio most f;imili;ir of tin; mcanM Ik; oiiijiloyM l<) pnl his 
fals(;ljoo(Js it) circulation. 

TiiiH vice iH licartlcHH and danp5(;rous wlj(;n confined to it« nutiiial 
limits, the circlcH of Kwicty ; but, when it invades the (mU',r walks 
ftf lif(;, and, most of all, when it ^^ets mixed op witii the ;ylnii- 
iiistration of justicf;, it becomf;s a tyrant an ruthless and injurifjus 
in its way, as he who fiddle<l whih; lionu; was in flames. W(! 
liave no d(;sir(; io ex;igM;<;ratf; the evils of the; 8tal,(; of society in 
which wc live; but an honest regard to truth will, we think, in- 
duce every observant ruan to lament the manner in which fhis 
power, under the guiso of popular opinion, penetrates inl>o all the 
avenues of the courtH, corrupting, perverting, and oft<;n destroy- 
ing, the healthful action of their systems. 

JJiberry furnished a ch;ar (example of the; trutli of tliene nmiarks 
on the morning of tin; day on wliich Mary Monson was to be tried. 
The ga(jl-window had its crowd of courwe; and though the dispo- 
sition of curtains, and other similar means of concealment, com- 
phitely bafllcd vulgar curiosity, they could not cloak the resentful 
f<;(;llngs to which this r(;serve gave birth. Most of those who 
were drawn thither be,longed to a class who fancied it was not 
afllietion enough to be accused of two of the highest crimcH 
kjiown to th(; laws; but tliat to this grievous misfortune should bo 
add(;d a submission to the stare of the multitude. It was the people's 
laws the a<;cused was supposed to have disregarded ; and it wrm 
their privilege to anticipate punishment, by insult. 

" Why don't she show herself, and let the public lorjk on her?" 
demanded one curious old man, whose head had whitened under 
a steadily increasing niisconception of what the rights of this 
})ublie were. "I've seen murderers afore now, and ain't a bit 
afeard on 'em, if thf;y Ije well ironed and look'd a't(tr.'' 

14 



"14 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

This sally produced a heartless laugh ; for, sooth to say, where 
:jne feels, under such circumstances, as reason, and justice, aud 
''evelation would tell them to feel, ten feel as the demons prompt. 

*^ You cannot expect that a lady of liishion, who plays on the 
harp and talks French, will show her pretty fiice to be gazed at 
b}' common folk," rejoined a shabby-goutcel sort of personage, 
out of whose waistcoat-pocket obtruded the leaves of a small note- 
book, and the end of a gold pen. This man was a reporter, ren- 
dered malignant by Meeting with opposition to his views of 
imagining that the universe was created to furnish paragraphs for 
newspapers. He was a half-educated European, who pronounced 
all his words in a sort of boarding-school dialect, as if abbrevia- 
tion offended a taste 'sickenM over by learning/ 

Another laugh succeeded this supercilious sneer; and three or 
four lads, half-grown and clamorous, called aloud the name of 
" Mary Monson,'' demanding that she should show herself. At 
that moment the accused was on her knees, with Anna Updyke 
at her side, praying for that support which, as the crisis arrived, 
she found to be more and more necessary ! 

Changing from the scene to the open street, we find a petti- 
fogger, one secretly prompted by Williams, spreading a report 
that had its origin no one knew where, but which was gradually 
finding its way to the ears of half the population of Duke's, ex- 
citing prejudice and inflicting wrong. 

" It 's the curi'stest story I ever heard," said Sam Tongue, as 
th.^ pettifogger was usually styled, though his real name was 
Hubbs; "and one so hard to believe, that, though I tell it, I call 
on no man to believe it. You see, gentlemen" — the little group 
around him was composed of suitors, witnesses, jurors, grand- 
jurors, and others of a stamp that usually mark these several 
classes of men — "that the account now is, that this Mary Mon- 
Bon was sent abroad for her schoolin' when only ten years c»l J ; 
and that she staid in the old countries long enough to Tan) lo 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. o 1 5 

play the liarp, aud other deviltriss of the same na(ur'. It's a 
niisfortin', as I say, for any young woman to be sent out of 
Amcriky for an edication. Edication, as everybody knows, is the' 
great glory of our countr}^ ; and a body would thiuk that what 
can't be Farn't here, isn't worth knowin'." 

This sentiment was well received, as would be any opinion 
that asserted American superiority, with that particular class of 
listeners. Eye turned to eye, nod answered nod, and a murmur 
expressive of approbation passed through the little crowd. 

" But there was no great harm in that," put in a person named 
Hicks, who was accustomed to connect consequences with their 
causes, and to trace causes down to their consequences. " Any- 
body might have been edicated in France as well as Mary Mou- 
Bon. That will hardly tell ag'in her on the trial." 

" I didn't say it would," answered Sam Tongue ; " though it'? 
gin 'rally conceded that France is no country for religion or true 
freedom. Give me religion and freedom, say I ; a body can got 
along with bad crops, or disapp'intments in gin'ral, so long as he 
has plenty of religion and plenty of freedom." 

Another murmur, another movement in the group, and other 
nods denoted the spirit in which this was received too. 

"All this don't make ag'in Mary Monson; 'specially as you 
Bdj she was sent abroad so young. It wasn't her fault if her 
parents- " 

" She had no parents — there 's the great mystery of her case. 
Never had, so far as can be discovered. A gal without parents, 
without fri'nds of any sort, is edicated in a foreign land, I'arns to 
'ipcak foreign tongues, plays on foreign music, and comes home 
a'ter she 's grown up, with her pockets as full as if she 'd been 
to Californy and met a vein ; and no one can tell where it all 
3orae from !" 

" Well, that won't tell ag'in her, ne'ther,". rejoined Hicks, who 
had now defended the accused so much that he began to take ap 



310 T II i: \V A V S OF THE II O V U . 

iuk'roat in Ler acquittal. " Evidence must be direct, and Lave 3 
p'int, to tell ag'iu man or woman. As for Californy, it 's nuide 
lawful by treaty, if Congress will only let it alone." 

'- 1 know that as well as the best lawyer in Puke's : but cha 
racier can tell ag'in an accused, as is very likely to be shown in 
the Oyer and Tarminer of this day. Character counts, let me 
tell you, when the fticts get a little confused; and this is just 
what I was about to say. IMary jMonson has money ; where does 
it come from?" 

*' Those that think her guilty say that it comes from poor Mrs. 
Goodwin's stockiuy returned Ilieks, with a laugh; "but, for 
my part, I've seen that stoekin', and am satisfied it didn't hold 
five hundred dollars, if it did four." 

Here the reporter out with his notes, scribbling away for some 
time. That evening a paragraph, a little altered to give it point 
tiud interest, appeai'cd in an evening paper, in which the conflicts 
ing statements of Tongue and Hicks were so presented, that 
neither of these worthies could have recognised his own child. 
That }>aper was in Biberry next morning, and had no inconsider- 
able influence, ultimately, on the fortunes of the accused. 

In the bar-room of Mrs. Horton, the discussion w\as also lively 
and wily on this same subject. As this was a place much fre- 
quented by the jurors, the agents of Tinims and "Williams were 
very numerous in and around that house. The reader is not to 
suppose that these men admitted directly to themselves even, the 
true character of the rascally business in which they were en- 
gaged ; for their employers were much too shrewd not to cover, 
to a certain degree, the deformity of their own acts. One set 
had been told that they were favouring justice, bringing down 
aristocratic pride to the level of the rights of the mass, doinon- 
etrating that this was a free country, by one of the very vilest 
piocedures that ever polluted the fountains of justice at their 
very source On the other hand, the agents of Timins had been 



THE WAYS OF T n E HOUR. 317 

pereuaded tLat they were working in behalf of a persecuted and 
injured woman, who was pressed upon by the well-known avarice 
of the nephew of the Goodwins, and who was in danger of be- 
coming the victim of a chain of extraordinary occurrences that 
had thrown her into the meshes of the law. It is true, this 
reasoning was backed by liberal gifts; which, however, were made 
to assume the aspect of compensation fairly earned ; for the biggest 
villain going derives a certain degree of satisfaction in persuading 
himself that he is acting under the influence of motives to which 
he is, in truth, a stranger. The homage which vice pays to virtue 
is on a much more extended scale than is commonly supposed. 

Williams's men had much the best of it with the mass. They 
addressed themselves to prejudices as wide as the dominion of 
man ; and a certain personal zeal was mingled with their cupidity. 
Then they had, by far, the easiest task. He who merely aids the 
evil principles of our nature, provided he conceal the cloven foot, 
is much more sure of finding willing listeners than he who looks 
for support in the good. A very unusual sort of story was circu- 
lated in this bar-room at the expense of the accused, and which 
carried with it more credit than.common, in consequence of its 
being so much out of the beaten track of events as to seem to 
set invention at defiance. 

I\Iary Monson was said to be an heiress, well connected, and 
well educated — or, as these three very material circumstances 
were stated by the Williams' men — " well to do herself, of friends 
well to -lo, and of excellent schooling." She had been married 
to a person of equal position in society, wealth and character, but 
many years ber senior — too many, the story went, considering 
her own time of life ; for a great difierence, when one of the par- 
ties is youthful, is apt to tax the tastes too severely — and that 
2onnection had not proved happy. It Lad been formed abroad, 
and more on foreign than on American principles ; the bridegroom 
being a Frenchman. It was what is called a mariagt de raison. 



818 



W A V H O It- T UK MO U II. 



in.ulc ihnnigli fli(» .•igcncy of IVitMids iuu\ (<X(HMiI.()|>, valluT lliii.n 
tlu'ouii;li llio sympniliicM iu\d Ti'diugH llint sliouM aloiio bring man 
niul womiin iogi'llior in this, the closest, nnion known to Imujaii 
brings. After !i yonr of ninrriod lif(v !il)r(i;ul. tlu> nnniutehod 
eoii|)l(> b;ul «'(Mn(> to AnuMicn, wlit^re llu* uilr pusst^sscrl t\ very 
iUMj>lo fortuno. 'J'iiis t^st.'ito the roeently <Mi;u'ted Ijiws giivo solely 
und !ibsolul(^ly to herself; nnd it Svv>n luM-nnie n sonree of dissen-' 
Bum botweeti ni;in :uid \vir(\ 'V\\o liiisl>;md, (juile nntuvMlly, <'(»n- 
eidered himself entitled to ndviso and direct, and, in s(Mne m(\'isnre, 
to control, Avhilo the nflluent, yonthfnl, and ])retty wWV, was in- 
dispiWMl to yield any of tho independence she so nuich prized j 
but wliich, in s(»iith, was asscM'ted in tlu^ wry tetMh ol' one ol' the 
most salutary laws of nature. In conse(pienee of this very dif- 
feriMit mann(>r of viewing the marriage relation, Ji coolness ensued, 
wliieh was shortly followed by tho disaj)pearaneo of tho wifo. 
'i'llis wife was Mary Monson, who had seer(<((>d herself in the 
retired dwelling of the (Goodwins, while the hired agiMits of her 
hnsband were running up and down the land in search of tho 
fugitive in places o( resort. To this aecoimt, so strange, and yet 
in many respects so natural, it was added that :i vein of occult 
madness existed in the lady's family ; and it was suggested that, 
us so much of her conduct as was ont of tho ordinary cours«) 
might be traced io this malady, so was it. alsv) possible that tho 
terrible incidents of the tire and the deaths were io be imputed 
to the sMnu> dei»p atlliction. 

>Ve are far fnnu saying that, any nunour e\presst>d in tho 
ttMius we have used, was circulating in Mrs. Uorton's bar-room; 
but one that contaiuiHl all their essentials was. lt»is one of tho 
c\n-ious eflects of (he upward tendency o( Irulh that almost every 
cllort. to conct^al it alt<\i;e(her fails; and this at the very tinu^ 
when idle and heartless gossip is iilliug the world with lii^s. Tho 
t(»ni:;ue d.»cs a thousand tinu^s more evil than the sword ; destroys 
norc happiness, iutlicts more incurable wounds, leaves tleciKU' 



T II E W A Y S O F THE II O U U. 319 

and more indelible scars. Truth is rarely met with uualloyed by 
falsehood. 

"This or that urunix'd, no mortal e'er Bhall find" — 

Was the judgment of Pope a century since; nor has all the 
boasted progress' of these later times induced a change. It is 
remarkable that a country which seems honestly devoted to im- 
provement of every sort, that has a feverish desire to take the 
lead in the warfare against all sorts and species of falsehood, 
gives not the slightest heed to the necessity of keeping the 
channels of intelligence jjure, as well as open! Such is the fact; 
and it is a melancholy but a just admission to acknowledge that 
with all the means of publicity preserved by America, there is 
no country in which it is more difficult to get unadulterated truth 
impressed on the common mind. The same wire that transmits 
a true account of the price of cotton from Halifax to New Or- 
leans, carries a spark that imparts one that is false. The two 
arrive together; and it is not until each has done its work that 
the real fact is ascertained. 

Notwithstanding these undoubted obstacles to the circulation 
of unalloyed truth, that upward tendency to which we havo 
alluded occasionally brings out clear and strong rays of the divine 
quality, that illumine the moral darkness on which they shine, 
as the sun touches the verge of the thunder-cloud. It is in this 
way that an occasional report is heard, coming from no one 
knows where ; originating with, no one knows whom ; circulating 
in a sort of under-current beneath the torrents of fldsehood, thai; 
is singularly, if it be not absolutely correct. 

Of this character was the strange rumour that found its way 
into Biberry on the morning of Mary Monson's trial, touching 
the history of that mysterious young woman's past life. Wilmeter 
heard it, first, with a pang of disappointment, though Anna had 
fjenj-ly regained her power in his heart ; and this pang was imme- 



^^20 T H K W AYS O F T 11 E il O U R. 

iiately succeeded by unbounded surprise. He told the talc to 
Millington ', and together they endeavoured to trace the report 
to sonietliing like its source. All efforts of this nature were in 
vain. One had hoard the story from another ; but no one could 
Fay whiMK'c it came originally. The young men gave the pursuit 
up as useless, and proceeded together towards the room of Tinims, 
where they knew Dunscomb was to be found, just at that time- 

" It is remarkable that a story of this nature should be in such 
general circulation," said John, " and no one be able to tell who 
brought it to Biberr3\ Parts of it seem extravagant. Do they 
not strike you so, sir?" 

" There is nothing too extravagant for some women to do," 
answered jMillington, thoughtfully. " Now, on such a person as 
Sarah, or even on Anna Updyke, some calculations might be 
made — certain calculations, I might say; but, there are women, 
Jack, on whom one can no more depend, than on the constancy 
of the winds.*' 

'^ I admire your — ^ even on Anna Updyke !' " 

" Do you not agree wuth me?" returned tlie unobservant Mil- 
lington. " I have always considered Sarah's friend as a particu- 
larly reliable and safe sort of person. 

"Even on Anna Updyke! — and a pai'ticularly reliable and 
safe s<.»rt of person ! — You have thought this, IMike, because she 
is Sarah's bosom friend!" 

" That 7na7/ have prejudiced me in her favour, I will allow; 
for I like most things that Sarah likes." 

John looked at his friend and future brother-in-law with an 
uraused surprise ; the idea of liking Anna Updyke on any account 
but lier own, striking him as particularly absurd. But they were 
;«oon at Timms's door, and the conversation dropped as a matter 
of course. 

No one who has ever travelled much in iho. interior of Ame- 
iiea, can easily mistake the character of one of the suiall edifices, 



T U K VV A Y « OF T H E ]1 O U R. 321 

wUL tbo gable to the street, ornamented with what arc crro 
Leourily termed Venitian blinds, painted white, and with an air 
of tobacco-smoke and the shabby-genteel about it, notwithstand- 
ing its architectural pretensions. This is a lawyer's ofl&ce, thua 
brought edgeways to the street, as if its owner felt the necessity 
of approaching the thoroughfare of the world a little less directly 
than the rest of mankind. It often happens that these buildings, 
small as they usually are, contain two, or even three rooms ; and 
that the occupants, if single men, sleep in them as well as trans- 
act their business. Such was the case with Timms, his " ofifice," 
as the structure was termed, containing his bed-room, in addition 
to an inner and an outer apartment devoted to the purposes of 
the law. Dunscomb was in the sanctum, while a single clerk and 
three or four clients, countrymen of decent exterior and very 
expecting countenances, occupied the outer room. John and 
Millington went into the presence with little or no hesitation. 

Wilmeter was not accustomed to much circumlocution; and 
he at once communicated the substance of the strange rumour 
that was in circulation, touching their interesting client. The 
uncle listened with intense attention, turning pale as the nephew 
proceeded. Instead of answering or making any comment, he 
Bank upon a chair, leaned his hands on a table and his head on 
his hands, for fully a minute. All were struck with these signs 
of agitation; but no one dared to interfere. At length, this 
awkward pause came to a close, and Dunscomb raised his head, 
the face still pale and agitated. His eye immediately sought that 
of Millington. 

"You had heard this story, Michael T' demanded the couu- 
gellor. 

" I had, sir. John and I went together to try to trace it t.) 
eome authority. '' 

"With what success?" 

'■' None whatever. It is in every one's mouth, but no one cau 



322 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

eay whence it came. Most rumours liave a clue, but this seems 
to liave none." 

" Do you trace the connection which has struck — which hay 
oppressed me ?'' 

" I do, sir, and was so struck the moment I heard the rumour , 
for the facts are in singular conformity with what you communi- 
cated to me some months si"nce." 

" They are, indeed, and create a strong probability that there 
is more truth in this rumour than is commonly to be found in 
Buch reports. What has become of Timms V 

" On the ground, 'Squire," answered that worthy from the 
outer room — "just despatching my clerk'' — this word he pro- 
nounced ' clurk' instead of ' dark,' by way of showing he knew 
how to spell — " with a message to one of my men. He will find 
him, and be with us in a minute." 

In the mean time, Timms had a word to say to each client in 
succession ; getting rid of them all by merely telling each man, 
in his turn, there was not the shadow of doubt that he would get 
the better of his opponent in the trial that was so near at hand. 
It may be said here, as a proof how much a legal prophet may 
be mistaken, Timms was subsequently beaten in each of these 
three suits, to the great disappointment of as many anxious bus- 
bandmen, each of whom fondly counted on success, from the oily 
promises he had received. 

In a very few minutes the agent expected by Timms appeared 
in the oflSce. He was plain-looking, rather rough and honest in 
appearance, with a most wily, villanous leer of the eye. His 
employer introduced him as Mr. Johnson. 

" Well, Johnson, what news?" commenced Timms. " These 
^re friends to Mary Monson, and you can speak out, always 
avoiding partic'lar partic'lars." 

Johnson leered, helped himself to a chew of tobacco with 
great deliberation, a trick he had when he needed a moment of 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 323 

thought before he made his revelations ; bowed respectfully to 
the greaii York lawyer ; took a good look at each of the young 
men, as if to measure their means of doing good or harm ; and 
then condescended to reply. 

" Not very good/' was the answer. " That foreign instrument, 
which they say is just such an one as David used when he played 
before Saul, has done a good deal of harm. It won't do, 'Squire 
Timms, to fiddle oflf an indictment for murder ! Mankind gets 
engaged in such causes ; and if they desire music on the trial, 
it's the music of law and evidence that they want." 

" Have you heard any reports concerning Mary Monson's past 
life ? — if so, can you tell where they come from ?" 

Johnson knew perfectly well whence a portion of the rumours 
came ; those which told in ftivour of the accused ; but these he 
easily comprehended were not the reports to which Timms 
alluded. 

" Biberry is full of all sorts of rumours," returned Johnson, 
cautiously, " as it commonly is in court-time. Parties like to 
make the most of their causes." 

" You know my meaning — we have no time to lose : answer 
at once." 

"I suppose I do know what you mean, 'Squire Timms; and 
I have heard the report. In my judgment, the person who set 
it afloat is no friend of Mary Monson's." 

" You think, then, it will do her damage ?" 

" To the extent of her neck. Eve, before she touched the 
upple, could not have been acquitted in the face of such a ru- 
mour. I look upon your client as a lost woman, 'Squire Timms.' 

" Does that seem to be the common sentiment — that is, so fax 
as you can judge?" 

" Among the jurors it does." 

" The jurors !" exclaimed Dunscomb — " what can you possibly 
know of the opinions of the jurors, Mr. Johnson ?" 



324 THE AVAVS OF THE 11 O U K. 

A cold smile passed over the man's fi\ce, aud he looked steadil}? 
at Timms, as if to catch a clue that might couduct him safolj; 
through the difficulties of his case. A frown that was plain 
enough to the agent, though admirably concealed from all others 
in the room, told him to be cautious. 

" I only know what I see and hear. Jurors are men, and other 
nieu can sometimes get an insight into their feelings, without 
lunniug counter to law. I heard the rumour related myself, in 
the presence of seven of the panel. It 's true, nothing was said 
of the murder, or the arson ; but such a history of the previous 
life of the accused was given as Lady Washington couldn't lave 
stood up ag'in, had she been livin', and on trial for her life." 

"Was anything said of insanity?'' asked Dunscomb. 

" Ah, that plea will do no good, now-a-days ; it 's worn out. 
They 'd hang a murderer from Bedlam. Insanity has been over- 
done, and can't be depended on any longer." 

" Was anything said on the subject?" repeated the counsellor. 

''Why, to own the truth, there was; but, as that told /or 
Mary IMoJison, and not ag'm her, it was not pressed." 

" You think, then, that the story has been circulated by per- 
sons in favour of the prosecution?'' 

" I know it. One of the other side said to me, not ten mi- 
nutes ago — ' Johnson,' said he — ^ we are old friends' — he always 
speaks to me in that familiar way — ' Johnson,' said he, ' you' d a 
done better to have gi'n up. What 's five thousand dollars to the 
ikes of her ? and them you know is the figures." 

" This is a pretty exhibition of the manner of administering 
justice !" exclaimed the indignant Dunscomb. " Long as I have 
been at the bar, I had no conception that such practices prevailed. 
At all events, this illegality will give a fair occasion to demand a 
new trial." 

''Ay, the sharpest lawyer that ever crossed Harlem bridge 
can Tarn so'v.Mhing in old Puke't/' said Johnson, nodding 



T II K WAYS O F T II K H O U K -VI^J 

•''Scjuirc Tirams will .stand to that. As for new trials, 1 only 
wonder tlie lawyers don't get one each time they are beaten; foi 
the law would bear them out." 

" I should like to know how, Master Johnson," put ir» Timriig. 
"That would be a secret worth knowing." 
"A five-dollar note will buy it." 
" There ^s one of ten — now, tell me your secrcit." 
"Well, 'Squire, you be a gentleman, whatever folks may say 
and think of you. I'd rather do business with you, by one-half, 
than do businc^ss with Williams , notwithstanding he has such a 
name, up and down the country. Stick to it, and you '11 get the 
nomination to the Sinat' ; and the nomination secured, you 're 
Bure of the sent. Nomination is the government of Ameriky ; 
and that's secured by a wonderful few !" 

" I believe you arc more than half right, Johnson" — Here 
Dunscomb, his nephew, and Millington left the office, quite un- 
noticed by the two worthies, who had entered on a sulject iia 
engrossing as that of Timms's elevation to the Senate. And, by 
the way, as this book is very likely to be introduced to the world, 
it may be well enough to explain that we have two sorts of 
"Senates" in this country; wheels within wheels. There is the 
Senate of each State, without an exception now, we believe; and 
there is the Senate of the United States; the last being, in every 
sense, much the most dignified and important body. It being 
unfortunately true, that " nominations" are the real people of 
ALmerica, unless in cases which arouse the nation, the State Se- 
nates very often contain' members altogether unsuited to their 
trusts; men who have obtained their seats l^y party legerdemain; 
and who had much better, on their own account, as well as on 
that of the public, be at home attending to their own private 
affairs. This much may he freely said by any citizen, of a Stat<' 
Senate, a collection of political partisans that commands no par- 
ticular respect; but, it is very different with that of the United 



326 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

States; and wc shall confine ourselves to saving, in reference to 
that body, which it is the fashion of the times to reverence as 
the most illustrious political body on earth, that it is not quite m 
obnoxious to this judgment as the best of its sisterhood of the 
several States ; though very far from being immaculate, or what, 
with a little more honesty in political leaders, it might be. 

" I believe you are half right, Johnson," answered Timms — 
" Nomination is the government in this country ; liberty, people, 
and all ! Let a man get a nomination on the right side, and 
he 's as good as elected. But, now for this mode of getting new 
trials, Johnson ?'' 

^' Why, 'Squire, I 'm amazed a man of your experience should 
ask the question ! The law is sharp enough in keeping jurors, 
and constables, and door-keepers in their places; but the jurors, 
and constables, and door-keepers, don't like to be kept in their 
places; and there isn't one cause in ten, if they be of any length, 
in which the jurors don't stray, or the constables don't get into 
the jury-rooms. You can't pound free-born Americans like 
cattle !" 

" I understand you, Johnson, and will take the hint. I knew 
there was a screw loose in this part of our jurisprudence, but did 
not think it as important as I now see it is. The fiict is, John- 
son, we have been telling the people so long that they are per- 
fect, and every man that he, in his own person, is one of these 
people, that our citizens don't like to submit to restraints that 
are disagreeable. Still, we aixj a law-abiding people, as every 
one says." 

"That may be so, 'Squire; but we are not jury-room-abiding, 
nor be the constables outside-of-the-door-abiding, take my word 
for it. As you say, sir, every man is beginning to think he is a 
part of the people, and a great part, too ; and he soon gets the 
notion that he can do as he has a mind to do." 

''"Where is Mr. Dunscomb?" 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 02 "7 

" lie stcpp'd out with the youDg gentlcmc.i, a few moments 
Biuce. I dare say, 'Squire Timms, he 's gone to engage men to 
talk down this rumour about Mary Monson. That job should 
have been mine, by rights!" 

" Not he, Johnson — not he. Your grand lawyers don't meddle 
with such matters; or, when they do, they pretend not to. No, 
he has gone to the gaol, and I must follow him." 

At the gaol was Dunscomb, sure enough. Mary Monson, 
Anna and Sarah, with Marie Moulin, all dressed for the court ; 
the f(jrmer with beautiful simplicity, but still more beautiful 
care ; the three last plainly, but in attire well suited to their re- 
spective stations in life. There was a common air of concern and 
anxiety; though Mary Monson still maintained her self-command. 
Indeed, the quiet of her manner was truly wonderful, for the 
circumstances. 

" Providence has placed me in a most trying situation," she 
said ; " but I see my course. Were I to shrink from this trial, 
evade it in any manner, a blot would rest on my name as long as 
I am remembered. It is indispensable that I should be acquiUed. 
This, by God's blessing on the innocent, must come to pass, and 
I may go forth and face my friends with a quiet mind." 

''These friends ought to be known," answered Dunscomb, 
"and should be here to countenance you with their presence." 

" They ! — He ! — Never — while I live, never V 

" You see this young man, Mary Monson — I believe he is 
known to you, by name?" 

Mary Monson turned her face towards Millington, smiled 
3oldly, and seemed undisturbed. 

"What is he to me? — Here is the woman of his heart; — let 
him turn to her, with all his care." 

" You understand me, Mary Monson — it is important that I 
should be assured of that." 



'^'^^ THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

" Perhaps I dO; Mr. Dunscomb, and perhaps I do not. You 
[ire enigmatical this morning; I cannot be certain. '^ 

*' In one short half-hour the bell of yonder court-house will 
ring, when you are to be tried for your life." 

The cheek of the accused blanched a little; but its colour 
soon returned, while her eye assumed a look even prouder than 
common. 

" Let it come" — was her quiet answer — " the innocent need 
not tremble. These two pure beings have promised to accompany 
me to the place of trial, and to give me their countenance. Why, 
then, should I hesitate?'' 

"I shall go, too'' — said Millington, steadily, like one whose 
mind was made up. 

" You ! — Well, for the sake of this dear one, you may go, 
too." 

"For no other reason, Mary?" 

" For no other reason, sir. I am aware of the interest you 
and Mr. Wilmeter have taken in my case ; and I thank you both 
from the bottom of my heart. Ah ! kindness was never lost on 
me " 

A flood of tears, for the first time since her imprisonment, so 
far as any one knew, burst from this extraordinary being ; and^. 
for a few minutes, she became woman in the fullest meaning of 
the term. 

During this interval Dunscomb retired, perceiving that It was 
useless to urge anything on his client while weeping almost con- 
vulsively ; and aware that he had several things to do before the 
court met. Besides, he left the place quite satisfied on an all- 
important point ; and he and Millington walked by themselves 
towards the court-house, their heads close together, f-nd their 
voices reduced nearly to whispeiu 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. eJ2l3 



CHAPTER XX. 

" I blush, and am confounded to app«:ar 

Before thy presence, Cato." 
« What 's thy crime ?" 
•' I am a Numidian." 

Cato. 

Within the half hour mentioned by Dunscomb the court-house 
bell rang, and there was a rush towards that building, in order to 
secure seats for the approaching trial. All that has been related 
in the preceding chapter occurred between the hours of six and 
nine that morning, it being one of the " ways of the hour" in the 
march of improvement, to drive the administration of justice with 
as near an approach to railroad speed as is practicable. Many 
of the modern judges go to work as early as eight in the morning 
— perhaps most do in the country circuits — and continue to call 
causes until nine and ten at night, illustrating the justice of the 
land by means of agents who are half asleep, and stupid from 
fatigue. 

We have said that everything like dignity, except as it is to 
be found in the high character of its duties, and the manner in 
which they are performed, has been banished from the courts of 
New York. Even on this solemn occasion, when a human being 
was to be put on trial for her life, and she a woman, there was 
no departure from the naked simplicity that has been set up on 
the pedestal of reason, in open opposition to the ancient accesso- 
ries by which the Law asserted its power. It remains to be seen 
whether human nature has not been as much over-esti-.nated 



.?JiO T II K MAYS OF r 11 K iiovn. 

uiidor the now aiTangcinciit as it was uiKlorratcHl Vy the old 
Tl)(Mv is a iiuhHuiii, in truth, that it is ever ^;ii*e to respect; aiul 
thert* is veasou to apprehend that iu throwing away the U3elcss 
vestments of idle parade, those neeessar>' to deeeney were casi 
aside with them. 

C^hiile a fourth o( the audienee assembUnl iu Puke's county 
court-house, on this occasion, were females. The curiosity, w hi..l- 
is said to be so natural to the sex, was, on. this occasion, quick- 
ened by the peculiar circumstances of the case, a woman having, 
been nuudered, and a woman accused of having committed the 
otVence. It was said, however, that many were summoned as 
'vitnesses, it being generally understood that the state had sub 
pivnaed the country far and near. 

At length, a general and expecting silence succeeded the bustle 
of the crowds entering and obtaining seats, and the eyes of the 
spectators were very generally turned towards the door, in the 
wish to get a glimpse of the principal personage in the approach- 
ing scene. AVe know not why it is that the spectacle of others' 
woes has so great a charm for most persons. Nature has given 
us sympathy, and compassion, and a desire to alleviate misery; 
yet nu^st of us like to look upon it, as a mere speetuele, when wc 
have neither the wish nor the power to be more than useless! 
spectators. Thousands will assemble to see a man hanged, when 
aU know that the law has a grasp too tight to be uidoosed, and 
that the ciivle of the gallows is no place for feelings of commise- 
ration. l>nt, so it is; and many a female, that day, who would 
have gladly alleviated any distress that it was in her power to 
lessen, sat there, a curious and interested observer of all tliat 
passed ; to note the workings of the eouutenanee, the writhingis 
of the inner soul, if any such there should be, or the gleams ol 
hojH\ that might, at intervals, lighten the gloom of despair. 

The court was occupied for half an hour with hearing motions, 
and in grantii^g ordei-s, nothing seeming to impcle its utilitariau 



T II K VV A Y H OK T II JO 11 (; U K , ''/M 

progress. 'J'licri tlui movcMiiciit wiUiiri ilio bar ceased, und an 
expectation lli.'it was even solemn, fell on the whole; inass of hu- 
man beings tliat were eolleeted in that narrow spaee. 

" This is the day for which the trial of M'lry Monsf)n was, })y 
Arrangement, set down," observed the judgr;. " Mr. Distriet 
Attorney, arc you ready V 

"We are, sir — entirely so, L believe. Jf the court please, IMr. 
Wil'iJams and Mr. Wright will be associated with mc in thin 
ca«c. It is one of importance, and \ do not lik(; the responsi- 
bility of trying it alone.' ' 

"The court has so understood it — who is for the accused '/"' 

" I am retained to defend Mary Monson,'' answered Dun- 
Bcomb, rising with dignity, and speaking with the self-possessior» 
of one long accustomed to the courts. "Mr. Timms will assis^ 
mc." 

" Arc you ready, gentlemen V 

"I believe we are, your honour; though the prisoner has not 
yet been arraigned.' 

"Mr. District Attonujy, we will proceed.'' 

As the sheriff now left the room, in person, rather an unusua. 
thing in bringing a prisoner into court, expectation was at its height. 
In the midst of a breathing silence, the door swung round — 
court-room doors are now made to swing like turnpikes, in ordc^r 
to prevent noise — and Mr. Gott entered, followed by IMary 
Monson, Anna, Sarah, Marie Moulin, and the two young men. 
The kind-hearted Avife of the sheriff was already in the room, 
and, hj means of a constable, had managed to keep seats reserved 
for those who might attend the prisoner. To these seats th<? 
party now retired, with the exception of Marie Moulin, who at- 
t(jndcd her mistress within the bar. 

Every observer was struck with the unexpected air, manner, 
and attire of the prisoner. Dunscomb saw, at a glance, that her 
appearance had made a most favourable impression. This wat 



/ 

332 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

Bomething, and he hoped it might counteract much of the raii- 
noeuvring of Davis and "Williams. The judge, in particular, a 
kind-hearted and very well meaning man, was taken altogether 
by surprise. There is nothing in which there is more freema- 
sonry than in the secret symptoms of social castes. Each indi- 
vidual is more or less of a judge of these matters, up to the level 
of his own associations, while all beyond is mystery. It hap- 
pened that the judge, now about to try Mary Monson, belonged 
to an old, historical. New York family, a thing of rather rare 
occurrence in the great movements of the times, and he possessed 
an hereditary tact in discerning persons of his own habits of life. 
Almost at a glance, he perceived that the prisoner had the air, 
manners, countenance and finesse, of one accustomed, from in- 
fimcy, to good company. The reader may smile at this, but he 
must pardon us if we say the smile will betray ignorance, rather 
than denote the philosophy that he may foncy controls his opi- 
nions. Dunscomb was much gratified when the judge rather 
earnestly interposed against the act of the sheriff, who was about 
to place the prisoner at the bar in the little barricadea space al- 
lotted to the use of ordinary criminals, directing him to — 

" Give the prisoner a chair within the bar, ]Mr. Sheriff. Gen- 
tlemen, be so good as to make room, that the accused may sit 
near her counsel. Mr. Attorney, let the prisoner be arraigned, 
as soon as she has rested from the fatigue and agitation of ap- 
pearing here." 

This ceremony, now little more than a blank form, was soon 
ended, and the plea of "not guilty" was entered. The next 
step was to empannel the jury, a task of infinite difficulty, and 
one that has got to be so much an out-work, in the proceedings 
in criminal cases, as almost to bafile the powers of the law. It 
is no unusual thing for the time of the court to be occupied a 
PTcek or two, in this preliminary proceeding, until the evil has 
got to be 50 crying as to induce the executive to recommend that 



THE WAYS OF T HE H O U K. 333 

the legislature may devise some mode of relief. One of the 
most besetting vices of all American legislation, in those cases in 
which abuses are not the ofispring of party, is a false philan- 
thropy, in which the wicked and evil doer has been protected at 
the expense of the upright and obedient. The abuse just men- 
tioned is one of those in which the bottom has been reached some- 
what sooner than common ; but, it is hazarding little to predict, 
that more than half which has been done within the last few 
years, under the guise of liberty and philanthropy, will have to 
be undone, ere the citizen will be left to the quiet enjoyment of 
his rights, or can receive the just protection of the laws. 

One of the common-sense and real improvements of the day, 
is to swear the jurors, in all the causes that are to be tried, by 
one process. This is a saving of time; and though the cere- 
mony might be, and ought to be made, much more solemn and 
impressive than it is, as by causing all other business to ceavse, 
and to make every one present rise, and stand in reverential si- 
lence, while the name of the God of heaven and earth is invoked, 
still it is a great improvement on the ancient mode, and has rea- 
son to sustain it. It gives us pleasure to note such circum- 
stances in the " ways of the hour," whenever a sense of right 
can induce one who loathes the flattery of the people quite as 
much as he loathes that of princes, and flattery of all sorts, to say 
aught in favour of what has been done, or is yet doing around him. 

The clerk called the name of Jonas Wattles, the first juror 
drawn. This man was a respectable mechanic, of no great force 
in the way of mind, but meaning well, and reputed honest. 
Timms gave the senior counsel a look, which the other under- 
stood to mean, "he may do." No objection being made on ac- 
count of the state, Jonas Wattles took his seat in the jury-box, 
which was thought great good luck for a capital case. 

" Ira Trueman," cried the clerk. 

A meaning pause succeeded the aiuiounccmcnt of thi.s uimie. 



334 T 11 E WAYS O V THE HOUR. 

Trueman was a person of considerable local influence, and would 
probably carry great weight in a body composed principally of 
men even less instructed tban he was himself. What was more, 
both Timms and Williams knew that their respective agents had 
been hard at work to gain his ear, though neither knew exactly 
with what degree of success. It was consequently equally ha- 
zardous to accept or to oppose, and the two legal gladiators stood 
at bay, each waiting for the other to betray his opinion of the 
man. The judge soon became wearied, and inquired if the juror 
was accepted. It was a somewhat amusing sight, now, to obsen^e 
the manner in which Timms proceeded with Williams, and Wil- 
liams met Timms. 

^' I should like to hear the gentleman's objections to this juror," 
observed Timms, " as I do not see that his challenge is peremp- 
tory." 

"I have not challenged the juror at all," answered Williams, 
*' but have understood the challenge comes from the defence." 

" This is extr'or'nary ! The gentleman looks defiance at the 
jurors, and now declares he does not challenge V 

" Looks ! If looks made a challenge, the state might at once 
suffer these foul murders to go unpunished, for I am sure the 
gentleman's countenance is a perfect thunder-cloud — " 

" I trust that counsel will recollect the gravity of this cause, 
and suffer it to be conducted with the decorum thai ought never 
to be wanting in a court of justice,'* interposed the judge. 
'' Unless there is a direct challenge, from one side or the other, 
the juror must take his seat, of course." 

" I should like to ask the juror a question or two," Timms 
replied, speaking very cautiously, and like one who was afraid of 
hurting the feelings of the party under examination; and in 
truth waiy, lest on investigation he might discover that Trueman 
was likely to be the sort of person he wanted. "Tou have bct'U' 
^t Bibcrry, j^^i'or, since the opening of the court ?" 



THE WAYS O F T 11 E II O U U. ?)'o5 

Trueman nodded his head. 

"Of course, you have been round among your friends and 
neighbours, that you have met with here ?" 

Another nod from Trueman, with a sort of affirmative grunt. 

" You have probably heard more or less said concerning Mai^y 
Monson — I mean in a legal and proper way ?'' 

A third nod of assent. 

" Can you speak anything, in particular, that has been said in 
your presence?" 

Trueman seemed to tax his memory; then he raised his head, 
md answered deliberately and with great clearness, 

" I was going from the tavern to the court-house, when I met 
David Johnson — 

"Never mind those particulars, Mr. Trueman," interrupted 
Timms, who saw that the juror had been talking with one of his 
own most confidential agents — " what the court wishes to know 
is, if any one has been reporting circumstances unfavourable to 
Mary Monson in your presence ?" 

" Or in her favour," put in Williams, with a sneer. 

" Juror," interposed the judge — "tell us if any one has spoken 
to 3'ou on the merits of this case — for or against ?" 

"Merits" — repeated Trueman, seeming to reflect again — 
" No, your honour ; I can't say that there has." 

Now, this was as bold a falsehood as was ever uttered ; but 
Trueman reconciled the answer to his conscience by choosino- to 
consider that the conversation he had heard had been on the 
demerits of the accused. 

" I do not see, gentlemen, that you can challenge for cause," 
)bserved his Honour — "unless you have further facts." 

" Perhaps we have, sir," answered Williams. " You wero 
sa3dng, Mr. Trueman, that you met David Johnson as you were 
going from the inn to the court-house — Did I understand .yoy 
3orrectly ?' 



836 T li K \V A V a () !<• T UK 111) II K. 

"Just so, 'Squire. I had })cou liaviiig a long talk with Pctoi 
Titus" — one of Williams's most active and conlidcutial agents — 
"vvlien Johnson came up. Johnson says, says he, ^ a pleasant 
day, gentlemen — I'm glad to see you both out; for the facc3 of 
old friends is getting scarce '' 

"I see no ohjoction to the juror's being received/' Williams 
carelessly remarked ; satistied that Titus had not neglected liis 
duty in that long talk. 

" Yes, he is as good a juror as Duke's can furnish/' observed 
Tinnns, perfectly sure Johnson had turned, to account the advan- 
tage of having the last word. Trueman was accordingly admitted 
to the box, as the second man of the twelve. The two managers 
of this cause were both right. Titus had crammed his old ac- 
quaintance Trueman with all that was circulating to the prejudice 
of the prisoner; expressing surprise when he had said all he had 
to say, at bearing that his friend was on the pannel. " AVell," 
said Titus, as Johnson approached, " if questioned, you '11 re- 
member I said I didn't dream of your being a juryman — but, 
just as like as not, you'll not be drawn for the case at all." On 
the other hand, Johnson was quite eloquent and pathetic in 
giving his old acquaintance the history of IMary Monson's case, 
whom he pronounced " a most injured and parsecutcd woman." 
Trueman, a shrewd, managing fellow in general, fimcied himself 
just as impartial and fit to try the cause, after he had heard the 
stories of the two men, as he had ever been ; but in this he wa;^ 
mistaken. It requires an unusually clear head, exceedingly high 
principles, and a great knowledge of men, to maintain perfect 
impartiality in these cases ; and certainly Trueman was not the 
man to boast of all these rare qualities. In general, the last word 
tells; but it sometimes happens that first impressions become 
difficult to eradicate. Such was the fact in the present instance ; 
Trueman taking his seat in the jury-box with an exceedingly 
strong bias against the accused. 



T II K WAYS OF THE fl O U H. 38*? 

Wc arc aware that these arc not the colours in which it is the 
fashion to dcliueate the venerable and much vaunted institution 
of the jury J certainly a most efficient agent in ciirtuiling tlio 
power of a prince; but just as certainly a most irresponsible, 
vague, and quite often an unprincii)led means of administering 
the law, when men are not urged to the desire of doing right by 
political pressure from without, and are left to the perverse and 
free workings of a very evil nature. We represent things as we 
believe them to exist, knowing that scarce a case of magnitude 
occurs in which the ministers of corruption are not at work 
among the jurors, or a verdict rendered in which the fingers of 
the Father of Lies might not be traced, were the veil removed, 
and the facts exposed to the light of day. It is true, that in 
trials for life, the persecution of the prisoner rarely takes so direct 
a form as has been represented in the case of Mary Monson ; but 
the press and the tongue do an incalculable amount of evil, even 
in such cases ; all the ancient safeguards of the law having been 
cither directly removed by ill-considered legislation, or rendered 
dead-letters by the " ways of the hour." 

It was regarded as exceedingly good progress to get two jurors 
into the box, in a capital case, in the first half-hour. His Honour 
had evidently resigned himself to a twenty-four hours' job ; and 
great was his satisfaction when he saw Wattles and Trueman saftily 
seated on their hard and uncomfortable seats ; for it would almost 
seem that discomfort has been brought into the court-houses as a 
sort of auxiliary to the old practice of starving a jury into a 
verdict. 

Whether it was owing to a suspicion, on the part of Tim ins, 
of the truth in regard to his being over-reached in the case of 
Trueman, or to some other cause, he raised no objections to eitlicr 
of the six jurors next called. Ilis moderation was imitated by 
Williams. Then followed two peremptory challenges; one in 
behalf of the prisoner, and one in behalf of the peo{»le, as it \s 

15 



•)l)8 T ii 10 \v A V a <) I' I II ic II () II ic. 

teniuMl. This wns ^«^MiMg <tii ho inucli hrUvv than (!V('i7lH)Jy 
cx|>t:cl(<I, lliat all wi;ro in good Iminour; niid it is not oxctu'ding 
the Iriilli if we. add, in :i wliglit dcgnui iMon; disj)osod to view the 
j)riHOM«'r and her <'aHo with favonr. On ^\w\i trifloH do hunmu 
tlt'ci.MioiiH very oflni (lc|KMd. 

All Ihi.s lime, inliy an liour, did Maij IMonson .sit in n^signrd 
inibinisf^ion to luir fate, (Munposi^d, attentive, and singnlarly lady- 
like. 'V\\c. NpeetatorH wvrc greatly divided in tlu'ir private spocu- 
hititnirt on lier gnilt or innoeiincc. Soino Haw in her<(nict manner, 
cnrionH interest in the proeeet lings, and nnehanging colonr, proofs 
not only of a hardened (Mmseieneo, bnt of an oA[)erieneo in HconeS 
Himllar to that in which slu; was nov/ eng:ig(>d ; overloolcing all 
th(^ prohahilities, (o indnlge in eonjeetnn^s so severt^ against one 
HO young. 

" Well, gentK'inen," erietl Ihe j'><lg<^ '' ^iuu; is precious. \ivi 
UM proceed." 

Tho ninth jnror was drawn, and it proved to bo u country 
trader of tlui name of Ilatfudd. This ])erHon was known to bo u 
man of considerable inllueiuu^ among persons of his own chiss, 
and to hav»5 a rcj)ntation for jndgment, if not for ])rincipl(>s. 
<' They might as well send Ihe other eleven home, and let Hat- 
field pronounce th«^ verdict," whispered one hiwyer lo another; 
" tiiero is no material in that box to withstand his logic." 

"Tluui lu^ will hold this young woman's lile in his hand," 
was Ihe reply. 

*' It will be prcMy much so. The glorious institution of tho 
jury is admirably devised to bring about such rcsulKs." 

" Vou forget Ihe judge. Ib^ has the last winnl, you will ro- 
niombor." 

"Thank (Jod it is so; else would our condition bo torribie 
Jiyneh law is preferable to laws administered by jurors who fancy 
tliemsidves so many legislaton*." 

<♦ It cannot be i'onc<>aIed that the spirit of tlu^ times has in- 



T II 10 W A V H OK TIIK HOUR. MIlO 

vixdvA tlio jury-box ; and the coart huH nofc oiui-lialf i(«s anciont 
influcncu. L hIiouU not ]iko to havo tliiH riatficld against iii<;." 

It would Hoeiti that Willlauis was of tlio Hamo way of tliiiiking j 
fur li(! inul.l«!r<!d to liiiuHcIf; dcsircMi tlio juror ii<»t to orit<!r llic 
box, and HC(!iiu:d to bo pondorliig on the courso li(5 ought (o [)iir- 
Huc. 'rho trutli wa.s that lie hiin.scif had recently Hucd ilatlioid 
for dtibt, :ui(l the prococdingH had been a litth; vindictive!. Ono 
of tho dangcfH that your really skilful lawyer haH to guard again.st 
Ih tho perHonal aninio.sity that iw cugendenid ])y bin own prof(;a- 
Hional practice. Many men have minds ko constituU'd that th(;ir 
opinions are affected hy prejudiccH thus cntateidj and thoy d(» not 
H(!ru[)l(5 to transfiT their hostility from the; counsel to tli<! (%auso 
he is einpl(»y<!(l to (h;f(!iid. It is cons(!(jin!ntly incuinb(!nt on the 
[)ru(lent lavvy(;r to inak(5 his estimate of character with jiidgiiKUit, 
and bo uh Huro as tho nature of tho case will allow, that hiu client 
is not to suffer for his own acts. As hostility to tin; counsel is 
not a legal objeeti(m to a juror, Williams was und(!r the nectessity 
of presenting such as would command th(5 attention of the court. 

"I wish the juror may b(i Hworn true; answers to make" — 
fiuid Willinms. 

Tim iris now [)ri(;k(;d up his ears; for, if it wenj of iinj)ortanc(» 
for Williams to oppose tho reception of this particular individual, 
it was proba})ly of importance to Mary Monson to have him re- 
ceived. On this i)riiiclj)l(!, therefore!, he was r(!ady to r(!sist tho 
atta<;k on the jur<)r, who was at once sworn. 

'^ Yon r(!side in tlu! adjoining town of JJlaekstonc!, I belicv(5, 
Mr. Hatfield?" askcid Williams. 

A Him[)le ass(!nt was tin; niply. 

" In pracl-ice there, in one of tho learned professions !"' 

Hatfield w;is ccirtain his interrogator knew b(!tf-(!r, for Williams 
oad been in his store fifty tim(!M; but he answ(!r(!d with the sauK- 
innocent manner a» that with which the (question was put. 

"I'm in trade." 



t<«H> i- II K w \ \ H i> !•• r II ii: II () I' i{. 

*' III \vi\i\v\ K('(>|» a Mo\\\ I (l:iiii NMV, Mr. I lall'u-M '/" 

*' I *1() ami (M\(^ ill wliii-li I Iia\o .moM you limulri'ils i;iv.s(>ll'.*' 

A f!;(MiiMal siiiilo .siuvihmKhI tliisHnlly ; iiiul 'I'iiiiiiiM liu»ko(l round 
'U llio JUulliMioo, witli Ills iiosi^ i»oiiilin>.>; upwards, as if In* si'riitiHl 
liis f^aiiuv 

** I «lai(^ my — I {VAy as I gi»," rrlurucd N\illiaiiis; "and my 
luoniory is iint hiadiMl >vitli suili Iransai-lions " 

"Mr. Williams," intorrui>lt>d lln> jud^^t', a litlK^ inipaluMitly, 
•*llu> (inu> {^[' tlio tMMirl. is \c\\ jU(«rions." 

" Sn is tlio di»;uitv of Mio outra^dd la\\\s to llio Stulo, your 
UomMir. W»> shall soon ho tlirongli, sir — Many |)t>oj)l»> In tlm 
lial>i( of tV»*niU'nlin;«; your sU>ro, !Mr. llatruddi"' 

'* As nuu'li so as is usual in tlio fi>nnlry.'' 

'• 'l\»u or linoou at a timo, on sonu^ oiH-asituisr' 

*' I daro say tlioiv may bo." 

"lias tlio inuidor o[' W'icv (]ood\\ in cscv hccw disrussi>d by 
your mistouuMs in your i>i\\souoo T ' 

" I iKm't know but it lias — snob a thin,«'; is \tMv likiK ; but 
oiu> boars so nuuh, 1 ran't say." 

" Pid Nou uoyor join in siu'li a dismission yonrsoUT" 

** I may, ov I may not." 

" I ask \»ni, now, di.s(iin'tl\ , it' Nou bad iu> siub disonssiiui on 
tbo 'Jlttli tvt* May last, bi'tw("i'n tlio lunirs ot' (>linon and twoho 
in tlio torouoou V 

Tho sliaipnoss of tlu' niannor in wbioli this quostion was put, 
tbo uiliiutriuv;s oi' tho dotails, and tlio p.irti^'ularity o( tlio intiM^ 
l\>^a(v>rios, ipiito o»uit\nindoil tlu' juror, who answvMod aoov>rd- 
Iiijily. 

" iSiu'h a thills; ntifih! ha\o takon plioo, and it nii.>;ht uol. 1 
,lo not roiiiouibor." 

" Is ,)ouas Wbilo ^^a rogular oouutry loalor") in tho h.ibit ol 
U'iiij;; in your stoiv T* 

" llo is it is a oonsidorabh> Kmn;:;v> tor labouriiij'.; men." 



Ill': W A V H OK r II K 



•M\ 



"An<l Slcphcn IJookr"' 

" Vch; Im! is iJioro a ^ood »l<;:il of IiIh tiino." 

"Now, I ]>('.p!i you U) rcirKiinbcr — -did noL Hiich a (conversation 
fake pl;u!(!, in wliicli you horo a part, botwcoii tlio liourH of 
jhvi'Ai and twelve; in Uk; forenoon; VVliito and I look boiri/^ 
pr(5«cnti"' 

Hatfield Heeine<I ij(!ri)lex(!d. 11(5 very conscioiitiouKly dewirod 
to tell tli(5 trutii, liavin;^ notiiing to gain by an oppOHite eourHc;; 
but he r(;ally had no reeoile(;tion of any Hueii dine^uHKion, as well 
inl^dit be lh(! cant;; no Hiieh converHation <iv<;r having taken plae(;. 
WillianiH know tlie liabitnof the b)aferH in quention, liad Hcle(;ted 
Mjc time a littlo at random, and adopUid tho i)firti(;ularity mendy 
n8 a rnoanH of confounding the juror, of whom he waH Horiouwly 
nfniid. 

" tSueh a thing may have liappened," armwered Hatfield, after 
a pauHe — "E don't remendxtr." 

"It way have liapp(;ned — Now, Hir, allow me to ask you if, 
in tliat converHation, you di<l not oxpreKH an opinion that you did 
not, and could not believe that a lady cducakid and dedicate, like 
the prifloner at the bar, did, or would, under any circumHtances, 
commit the ofTenco with which Mary Monson is charged V 

Hatfield grew more and more confounded ; for WilliamH'H 
manner wan more and more confident and cool. In Uiin Htatc of 
feeling he Bufl'crcd the reply to escape liim — 

" I may have Haid hh much — it Heemn quil^e natural." 

" I presume, after thiw," obaerved WillianiH, carclcHHly, " your 
Honour will order the juror not to enter the box V 

" Not so fast — not so fast, brother WillianiH," put in 'riinniH, 
who felt it wan now bin turn to nay a word, and who was thumb- 
ing a small pocket-almanac very diligently the whih;. 

"This discusHion, J understand tjje l(;arned gentleman, took 
phico in the juror's store T' 

" It did, Hir," waw the answer — "a pl;i(;e where Hueh diricus- 



"> <li T 11 K "\V AYS O V T II K II O U R. 

sions arc vorj apt to occur. Hook and AVhite loaf half their 
time away in that store.'' 

"All quite likely — very likely to happen — IMr. TIntfield, do 
you open your store on the Sabbath i"' 

" Certainly not — I am very particular to do nothing of the sort." 

"A church-member, I suppose, sir?" 

" An undeserving one, sir." 

" Never, on any account, in the practice of opening your stoiL 
:)f a Sabbath, I understand you to say?" 

" Never, except in cases of sickness. Wc must all respect the 
wants of the sick." 

" Are Hook and White in the habit of loafing about on your 
premises of a Sunday?" 

" Never — I wouldn't tolerate it. The store is a public place 
of a week-day, and they can come in if they plc:ise; but I 
wouldn't tolerate such visits on the Sabbath." 

** Yet, if the court please, the 26th of last May happened to 
fall on the Sabbath day ! My brother AVilliams forgot to look 
into the almanac before he made up his brief." 

Here Timms sat down, cocking his nose still higher, quite 
certain of having made a capital hit towards his views on the 
Senate, though he actually gained nothing for the cause. There 
was a general simper in the audience ; and Williams felt that ho 
had lost quite as much as his opponent had gained 

"Well, gentlemen, time is precious — let us get on," inter- 
posed the judge — " Is the juror to enter the box or not ?" 

" I trust a trifling mistake as to the day of the month is not 
about to defeat the ends of justice," answered Williams, raising 
himself hiiiher on his stilts, as he found himself sinkinjx lower 
in his facts. " I put it on the i2Gth by a miscalculation, 1 can 
now see. It was probably on the 25tli — Saturday is the loafer's 
holiday ; — yes, it must have been on Saturday the 25th that the 
3onversation took place." 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. '''>i'^ 

"Do you remember this fact, juror?" 

" I remember, now so much has been said on tlic subject,'* 
liuswered Hatfield, firmly, " that I was not at home at all be- 
tween the 20th and the 27th of May last. I could have held 
no such conversation on the 25th or 2Gth of May; nor do I 
know that I think Mary Monson either innocent or guilty/' 

As all this was true, and was uttered with the confidence of 
truth, it made an impression on the audience. Williams doubted ; 
for so fine was his skill in managing men, that he often succeeded 
in gaining jurors by letting them understand he suspected them 
of being prejudiced against his case. AVith the weak and vain, 
this mode of proceeding has frequently more success than a con- 
trary course ; the party suspected being doubly anxious to illus- 
trate his impartiality in his verdict. This was what Williams, 
and indeed the bar, very generally calls " standing so erect as to 
lean backward." 

" Mr. Williams," said the judge, "you must challenge peremp- 
torily, or the juror will be received." 

" No, your Honour, the State will accept the juror ; I now 
sec that my information has been wrong." 

" We challenge for the defence," said Timms, deciding on the 
instant, on the ground that if Williams was so ready to change 
his course of proceeding, there must be a good reason for it. 
"Stand aside, juror." 

"Peter Bailey," called the clerk. 

No objection being made, Peter Bailey took his seat. The 
two next jurors were also received unquestioned; and it only 
liemained to draw the twelfth man. This was so much better 
luck than commonly happens in capital cases, that everybody 
seemed more and more pleased, as if all were anxious to come to 
the testimony. The judge evidently felicitated himself, rubbing 
bis hands with very great satisfaction. The bar, generally, en- 
tered into his feelings; for it helped along its business. 



i! n T U K W AYS O F T II E II O T K, 

'* On the wluili>," obsorvoil one of (lie lawyers who was in 
extensive }>raetioe, ispoaldnoi; to aiiotlier at his side, " I ^YOlllJ jwe 
80011 try one of these numler-eases as to i?o throuirh with a «root] 
Wiitor-oause. ' ' 

"Oh! t/it\i/ are exeruciatinn; ! Cot into a gmnl water-eausc, 
with about thirty witnesses on a side, and you are in for a week. 
1 was three days at one, only la^t cireuit." 

"Arc there many witnesses in this case?'' 

" About fi>rty, I hear," glancing towards the benches where 
most of the females s;\t. " They tell mo there will be a very 
formidable array as to character. Ladies from York by the 
dozen!" 

" They will be wanted, if all they s:iy is true." 

*' If all you hear is true, wo have reached a new epoch in tbo 
history of mankind. I have never seen the day when half of 
that 1 hear is more than half true. I set the rest down as ' lea- 
ther and prunella.' " 

" Kobert Ivobinson," cried the clerk. 

A respectable-looking man of fifty presented himself, and was 
about to enter the box without stopping to ascertain whether or 
not he wiHild be welcome there. This pei-son had nnich more 
the air of the world than either of the other jurors; and with 
those who are not very particular, or very discriminating in such 
mattei-s, might readily enough pa^js for a gentleman. lie was 
neatly dressed, woi*e gloves, and had certmu chiiius, an eye-glass, 
and other appliances of the sort, that it is not nsnal to see at a 
country circuit. Neither AVilliams nor Timms seemed to know 
the juror; but each looked surprised, and undecided how ho 
ought to act. The peremptory cbjillenges were not exhausted ; 
und tJiere was a conunon impulse in the two lawyers, first to ao 
,*ept one so respectable in mien, and attire, and gencitil air; and 
then, by a s\idden revolution of feeling, to rejx't one of whom 
they knew nothing 



T II K VV A Y H OF J' II K H O U R. iMT, 

"I BuppoHC the Huifuiions JH uU r\<^\il," Williams oarulcssljf 
ivmarkcd. "The juror resides in Duke's ?" 

" I do," was the answer. 

" Is a freeholder, and entitled to serve ?" 

A somewhat supercilious smile came over the countenance of 
tho juror; and he looked round at the person who could presume 
Ix) make such a remark, with something very like an air of con- 
tempt. 

*'I am Doctor llobinson," he then observed, laying emphasis 
on his learned appellation. 

Williams seemed at a loss; for, to say the truth, he had never 
heard of any such physician in the county. Tiranis waa quite 
as much mystified ; when a member of the bar leaned across a 
table, and whispered to Dunscomb that the juror w.'is a celebrated 
quack, who made pills that would cure all diseases ; and who, 
having made a fortune, had bought a place in the county, and 
was to all legal purposes entitled to serve. 

" The juror can stand aside," said Dunscomb, rising in his 
slow dignified manner. " If it please the court, we challenge 
peremptorily." 

Timms looked still more surprised ; and when told the reason 
for the course taken by his associate, he was even sorry. 

" The man is a quack/' said Dunscomb, " and there is quackery 
enough in this system of a jury, without calling in assistance from 
the more open practitioners." 

*' I ^n afraid, 'Squire, he is just the sort of man we want. I 
can work on such Spirits, when I fail altogether with more every- 
day-kind of men. A little quackery does no harm to some 
causes." 

" Ira Kingsland," called out the clerk. 

Ira Kingsland appeared, a staid, solid, respectable husband- 
rnan — one of those it is a mistaken usage of the country to term 



,M(J T II It. \1 A V H () V T il K II () II II. 

yiMHiioii; uiul ol' a c1:imh (liai cont.-iiiis more, usiifnl iiiroriiiation, 
practical good ncma and jud<^in('nt, tli:m ini<j;lil. hr. imagiiicd, 
under all the circumstaiiceH. 

As no objeelion wuh rais(Hl, this juror was nrelved, and t.lio 
paiinel was complete. After cautioning tlie jurors about listen- 
ing and talking, in the usual way, the judge adjourmxl the cou.-f, 

ffiT llilllUT. 



1 n K W A V .S f) F T II R M O II K. HI 7 



CIIAPTKR XXL 

" I know it Ih droadful I I fcol tfic 
AnguiMli oftljy f^oricrous soul — hiif, I wjih Inirii 
To murder all who lovo inc." 

George Jiarnwell. 

UUNHOOMIJ was followed to Ills room ]>y Millington, between 
whom and himself, John Wilmetcr had occasion to remark, a 
Budden intimacy had sprung up. The counsellor had always 
liked his student, or he would never have consented to give him 
his niece; but it was not usual for him to hold as long, or seem- 
ingly as confidential conversations with the young man, as now 
proved to be the case. When the interview was over, Millington 
mounted a horse and galloped off, in the direction of t/own, in 
that almost exploded manner of moving. Time was, an<l that 
within the memory of man, when the g(;ntlemen of New York 
were in their saddles hours each day; but all this is changing 
with the times. We live in an age of buggies, the gig, phaeton, 
and curricle having disappeared, and the utilitarian vehicle just 
named having taken their places. Were it not for the women, who 
Btill have occasion for closer carriages, the whole nation would 
Boon bo riding about in buggies ! Beresford is made, by one of 
his annotators, to complain that everything like individuality ift 
becoming lost in England, and that the progress of great impro\e- 
mcnts must be checked, or independent thinkers will shortly be 
out of the question. If this be true of England, what might not 
be said on the same subject of America ? Here, where there ifi 
40 much community as to have completcdy engulphed everything 



'<4 8 THE WAYS OF THE H O U It . 

like individual thought and action, we take it the most imitative 
people on earth are to be found. This truth is manifested in a 
thousand things. Every town is getting its Broadway, thus de- 
feating the very object of names ; to-day the country is dotted 
with Grecian temples, to-morrow with Gotliic villages, all the 
purposes of domestic architecture being sadly forgotten in each ; 
and, as one of the Sponsors is said to have introduced the article 
of dress which bears his name, by betting he could set the fashion 
of cutting off the skirts of the coat, so might one who is looked 
up to, in this country, almost set the fashion of cutting off the nose. 

Dunscomb, however, was a perfectly original thinker. This 
he manifested in his private life, as well as in his public profes- 
sion. His opinions were formed in his own way, and his acts 
were as much those of the individual as circumstances would at 
all allow. His motives in despatching Millington so suddenly 
to town were known to himself, and will probably be shewn to 
the reader, as the narrative proceeds. 

" Well, sir, how are we getting on ?" asked John Wilmeter, 
throwing himself into a chair, in his uncle's room, with a heated 
and excited air. " I hope things are going to your mind ?" 

" We have got a jury, Jack, and that is all that can be said 
in the matter,'' returned the uncle, looking over some papers as 
the conversation proceeded. " It is good progress, in a capital 
case, to get a jury empannelled in the first forenoon." 

'^ You '11 have the verdict in, by this time to-morrow, sir, I 'm 
afraid !" 

" Why afraid, boy ? The sooner the poor woman is acquitted, 
the better will it be for her." 

"Ay, if she be acquitted; but I fear everything is looking 
dark, in the case." 

"And this from yoUj who fancied the accused an angel of 
light, only a week since ! " 

" She is certainly a most fascinating creature^ when she choosct 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 349 

to he/' said JoIid, witli emphasis; "but slie does not always 
choose to appear in that character.'' 

" She is most certainly a fascinating creature, when she chooses 
to he!'' returned the uncle, with very much the same sort of 
emphasis. 

But Dunscomb's manner was very different from that of his 
nephew. John was excited, petulant, irritable, and in a state to 
feel and say disagreeable things ; dissatisfied with himself, and 
consequently not very well pleased with others. A great change 
had come over his feelings, truly, within the last week, and the 
image of the gentle Anna Updyke was fast taking the place of 
that of Mary Monson. As the latter seldom saw the young 
man, and then only at the grate, the former had got to be the 
means of communication between the youthful advocate and his 
client, throwing them constantly in each other's way. On such 
occasions Anna was always so truthful, so gentle, so earnest, so 
natural, and so sweetly feminine, that John must have been 
made of stone, to remain insensible of her excellent qualities. 
If women did but know how much their power, not to say charms, 
are increased by gentleness, by tenderness in lieu of coldness of 
manner, by keeping within the natural circle of their sex's feel- 
ings, instead of aping an independence and spirit more suited to 
men than to their own condition, we should see less of discord in 
domestic life, happier wives, better mothers, and more reasonable 
mistresses. No one knew this better than Dunscomb, who had 
not been an indifferent spectator of his nephew's course, and who 
fancied this a favourable^moment to say a word to him, on a sub- 
ject that he felt to be important. 

" This choosing to be is a very material item in the female 
character," continued the counsellor, after a moment of silent 
and profound thought. " Whatever else you may do, my boy, 
in the way of matrimony, marry a gentle and feminine woman. 
Take my word for it, there is nc ^rue happiness with any other," 



.i.M^ I II K u \ V s o K r n k u o r u. 

•* Womou hnvo tlioir tastos nuil I'apr'uvs, niul liko to 'uu)»:l};x 
thtMii, sir, :\s nvoU ns om*solvos." 

" All (hnt uuiv bo tr\u\ hni avoid nhnt is tiMMWi^l ;i >vonum i>f 
\ndopondout s|nrit. Thov :uv usnnlly so nianv ilovils iuoarnuto. 
It' thoY hnppou io uulto monovod indopoiuloiii'i* Nvith moral iiuU^ 
'[vuvUmu»\ I am not ipiito v-ovtaiii that thiMr tvrauuv is not vvt'rso 
tluHU that of ^»ol^>. A tvi'uunioal woman is woi-so than ;v tvnin- 
nioal man, Ivoanso sho is apt to bo oaprioiotis. At »>no nu>nioni 
hho Avill blo>v hot. at thr no\t ooUl ; at ono tiuio sho \\\\\ givo, 
at tho no\t ohit^-h bai'k hov iiifts ; to-ilav sho is tho (U'votod ami 
oboviiont wito, tivmornnv tho ilominooring paitiuT. Mo, ni\ ,laok, 
marrv a troman ; which moans a kind, i;vntU\ atVov'tionato, 
thoni»htt"ul oivatuiv, whoso hoart is so full o( (/om, thoiv is no 
i\KMn in it tor horsolt'. ^lavn' just snoh a girl as Anna I'pdvko, 
if you oan i;vt hor." 

" I thank yon, sir," ansNNorod dohn, oolouriug. " I daiv s:»y 
tho advioo is i;\hhI, and I shall boar it in tnind. >Vhat would 
vou think of a woman liko 3lary Monson, i'ov a wito";" 

Uunsovnnb turned a vaoant look at his nophow. as if his 
thoui:;hts woro far away, and his ohin dro[>pod on his bosom. 
This abstnu'tion lastod but a n\inuto, howovor whou tho youuii 
man gi^t his answer. 

" Mary Monson i\< a wifo, and 1 foar a bad ono," roturnovl tho 
ivunsollor. '* If sho bo tho woman I supposo hor to bo, hor his- 
iovw briof as it is, is a vory lamontablo ono. elohn, you aiv my 
Kistor's son, and n\y hoir. You :uv noaivr to mc than any other 
Iniman boiui:. in <>no sonso, though I certainly love Sanih ipiit^^ 
as woU as I do yon, if not a little better. Those ties oi' feeling 
aiv stnu\gt^ links in our naturt'* ! At one time I loved your mo- 
ther with a tenderness snoh as a fiither might feel for a ehild ; in 
^hort. with a brother's love — a brother's love t'ov a young, auvl 
jMX^tty, and gxwl girl, and 1 thought I ivuld never love another 
^v? I loved Kliialvth. She n^turninl my atl\vtion, and thon> wxs 



7 U K W A Y h f F 7 (J K H O f ft, 'j.jl 

a jx;rio'J of many y<;;i.r:i w}j':jj if, vf.ui hiipp<^H';'J f.ljat wc wore t/. 
pfiHH 'J'jv/n f)jf; v;x)'i of Jiff; jfj company, an hrot.hor and Hintrjr — 
old ])iu^l(^',r and old rnaid. Your fat.lJ^r (\':r.\.u^n-A a)] t,}jj>, arid 
at tljirty-four my Hint/jr loft mo. it wan liko pullinj^ my hoart 
►;trin;/H out of mo, and b^j much tlio worn^;, boy, hooa!i»^; tlioy 
woro alr';ady Korc.'^ 

Jolin Hlarf/;'J. Ilin undo f'-j/Ao fjoarft/:ly, and a KJjuddor, thut 
wa-i HO violont an, t/> ho porr/;pl,iMo t/> }jIh o'^/mpanion, y.^-.r/A 
fJirou^rlj lii.H framo. 'i'ljo ohookn of tjjo counnoilor ',v';ro uhuaUy 
c^ilourloKHj now tJioy 'A\)\><t',xroA af/fs^dutrdy [>;i)lid. 

"Thin, thon," thou;rht John Wilmot/^r, "in tho inH/innihlo old 
htjoholor, who was thought to livo alt/jgothor for Knur/M'. JJow 
Jittio (\ftc/A tho world roally know of wliat i>; pa;-/-.ifjg witjjin it! 
Wdl may it ho naid, M.horo in a hkoloU^n in ovory hoiir/i.' " 

JJunH^iomh Koon rooovorod h'lH W;lf-<;omman'J. Ji/;;i/;hing forth 
an ann, };o t//;k liJ:-; nophow'n harj'J, arjd said affoctlon- 
at/dy — 

"I am not ofU;n thiui, Jaf;k, a« you murt know, A vivid 
rooolloolion of dayn that havo long f/<;on par-;t camo frorhly ovor 
mo, and I JKjlicve I havo boon a littlo unmarjno'J. 'J'o you, my 
early Ijint^^ry w a blank; but a vory fow wordn will b^.tvo U) uM 
ail you nood ovor know. I wan a}>^jut yoi^ timo of lifo, Jar;k, 
wliorj r lovod, c/jurUA, and ?>r;<;;xmo ongag^yi to Mary Millingf/jL 
— Mioh;j/d'8 groaUaunt. Ih this now t/j you ?" 

"Not entirely, sir; Sarah has UAd uui homothing of tho fjiinti 
Bort — you know tho girls got hold of family anorylotr^s swncr 
than we mftn." 

" She then probably t^jld you that I was cruelly, hoartlossly 
jiltc^i, for a richer man. Mary mitrrie^J, and left one fJaught/;r; 
who also married early, \i':r own cotujin, Frank Millingt^jn, the 
eoiiain of Micha^d's father, i'ou may now r/ifi why I have ever 
felt HO much interest in your future brother -in-kw/' 

" He is a go'^xl fellow, and quitxi fre^i from all jilting bloodj 



.»'^1' T II K >V A V S O F T 11 K U O V K. 

1 '11 answor tor it. l>ut, what lias boooino of this Mr.s. l^V;^nl^ 
Millingtou ■/ 1 roinembor no suoli person." 

'* liiko lun- mothor, slio Jiod yoiini::, loaviuir an only dauirlitor 
to iuhorit lior name and very ample fortnne. The reason you 
never knew 3Ir. Frank ^lillhigton is probably beeanse he went 
to Paris earlv, where he edueated his daughter, in a oToat deiirce 
— theiv, and in England — and when ho died, 31ildred IMilling- 
ton, the heiress of both parents, is said to have had qnite twenty' 
thonsand a year. Certain otlieious friends made a niateh for liOFj 
I have heard, with a Frenelnnan of some family, bnt small means; 
and the reeent revolution has driven them to this eonntry, wliero, 
as I have been told, she took the reins of domestic government 
into her own hands, until some sort of a separation has been (Ik 
consequence." 

*' AMiy, this account is surprisingly like the report we have 
had I'oncerning Mary Monson, this morning !" cried Jack, spring- 
ing to his feet with excitement. 

'' I believe her to be the same pei*son. Many things unito to 
create this opinion. In tlio lirst place, there is certmnly a marked 
family resemblance to her grandmother and mother; then the 
cilueation, manners, languages, money, Mario IMouliu, and tlio 
initials of tlie assumed name, each and all have their solution iu 
this belief. The ' ^lademoiselle' and the * ^ladame' of the Swiss 
maid are explained; in short, if we can believe this Mary Mon* 
son to be iMadame de Larocheforte, we can lind an explanation 
of everything tliat is puz/Jing iu her jintoceden ts.'' 

" But, why should a woman of twenty thonsand a year be liv- 
ing in the cottage of Peter Gootlwiu?" 

'' 15ecausc she is a Avoman of tAventy thousand a year. Mona. 
de Larocheforte found her money was altogether at her own com- 
mand, by this new law;, and, naturally enough, he desired to play 
fiomething more than a puppet's part in his own abode and family. 
The lady clinsrs to her dollars, which she loves nun-e than her 



T II K WAYH OF 'J' H K 11 L IC. "•.»•> 

hiwbandj a quarrel cri:siiOH, and nhe cbooHeH t/j retire from \iaA 
protection, and conceal lierBelf; for a time, under Peter Goodwin'a 
roof, to evade piirnuit. CapriciouH and wrong-hea^lcd women (\( 
a tliounand Btrange things, and IhouglitleHH gabblers often Huntain 
them in what they do.'' 

" This is rendering the marriuge tie \(^ry slight I'^ 

"It is treating it with contempt; setting at naught the laws 
of God and man — one's duties, and the highest obligfitions of 
woman. Still, many of the sex fancy if they abKbiin from one 
great and distinct offence, the whole catalogue of the remaining 
misdeeds is at their mercy." 

" Not U) the extent of murder and arson, surely ! AVhy should 
such a woman commit these crimes?" 

"One never knows. Wc are fearfully constituted, John; 
morally and physically. The fairest form often conceals the 
blackest heart, and vice versa. J5ut I am now satisfied that there 
is a vein of insanity in this branch of the Millingtons; and it is 
jKjssible Madame de Larwheforte is more to be pitied than i/j bo 
censured." 

"You surely do not think her guilty, uncle Tom?" 

The counsellor looked intently at hiii nephew, shaded his brow 
a moment, gazed upward, and answered — 

" I do. There is such a chain of proof against her as will 
scarce a/lmit of explanation. I am afraid, Jack — I am afraid 
that she has done these deeds, terrible as they are ! Such has 
been my opinion, now, for some time; though my mind has 
vacillat(jd, as I make no doubt will prove to be the case with 
those of most of the jurors. It is a sa/l alternative ; but I see 
no safety for her except in the plea of insanity. I am in hopes 
that something may be ma<le out in that respect." 

"We are quite without witnesses to the point; are we not, 
kL"?" 

" Certainly; but Michael Millington has gone U) Ujwn Uj send 



i)r)i T II IC AV AYS () K T Mli; II () II R. 

hy iclograph for i\w. nojircst conucclioiis of J\l:ul;iiuo do L.irodm 
folio, who :iro in tlio noiglibourhood of JMiiladolpli'ui. TIk 
husbuiul Iiinisolf is Hoinowhore on the lliulson. Jlo must be 
hunted uj) too. JMicliael will sco to all this. I shall get tlio 
judj^o to adjourn early this evening; and we must spin out tlio 
/rial for th(5 n(;xt day or two, in order to collect our forces. The 
jud<;(; is young and indulg(U»t. lie has certain ridiculous notiont 
about saving the time of the public; but do(\s not feel secure 
enough in his seat to be very positive." 

At this instant Timuis burst into the room, in a high stat« of 
excitement, exclaiming, the luonicnt he was sure that his wordh 
would not reach any hostile cars — 

*' Our case is desperate ! All the IJurtons are coming out derid 
against us; and neither Mho lu^w philanthropy,' nor * Friends,* 
nor ' anti-gallows,' can save us. 1 never knew excitement get up 
BO fast. It 's the infernal aristocracy that kills us ! — Williams 
makes great use of it; and our people will not stand aristocracy 
SiH> what a magnanimous report to the legislature the learnec 
Alt()rney-(icneral has just made on the subject of aristocracy 
How admirably he touches up the kings and countesses!" 

" Tshaw !" exclaiuKHl Dunsoomb, with a contemptuous curl 
of the lip — "not one in a thousand knows the meaning of tho 
word ; and he anumg the rest. The report you mention is that 
of a ri^lined gentleman, to bo sure, and is addressed to his equals. 
\\'hat exclusive political privilege does Mary Monson possess? 
or what does the j)atroon, mdess it be the ]>rivilege of having 
more stolen from him, by political frauds, than any other man in 
the State f' This cant about social aristocracy, even in a state of 
Bociety in which the servant deserts his master with impunity, in 
the midst of a dinner, is very miserable stulV! Aristocnicy, for- 
S(U)th ! If there be aristocracy in America, the blackguard is tht 
arist«H'rat. Away, then, witii all this trash, and speak common 
Reuse in future." 



T II K WAYS O V T II 10 II () V K. J^').'5 

*^ You :uMa'/o iiic, mr ! Why, I regard you as a .sort of ariftto- 
jrat, INIr. DunKcoinb." 

" Mo ! — And what do you h(3c aristocratic uljout me, pray?" 

" Wliy, nir, you don't look like the rest of uh. Your very 
walk is diflerent — your language, manners, dress, habits and 
opinions, uU difier from those of the Duke's county bar. Now, 
to my notion, that is being exclusive and peculiar; and what<jver 
is [KMMiliar is aristocratic, is it not?" 

Here Dunseomb and his nephew burst out in a laugh; and, 
for a few minutes, Mary Monson was forgotten. Timms wa« 
quite in earnest; for he had fallen into the every-day notions, in 
this respect, and it was not easy to get him out of them. 

" l*erhaps the Duke's county bar contains the aristocrats, and 
I am the cerf!" said the counsellor. 

^^ That cannot be — you must be the aristocrat, if any there bo 
among us. I don't know why it is so, but so it is; yes, you arc 
the aristocrat, if there be one at our bar." 

Jack smiled, and looked funny; but he had the discretion to 
bold his tongue. Jfe had heard that a Duke of Norfolk, the top 
of the English aristocracy, was so remarkable for his personal 
habits as actually to be offensive; a mun who, according to 
Timms'w notions, would have been a long way down th(j social 
laxlder; but who, nevertheless, was a top-peer, if not a top-saw- 
yer. It was easy to see that Timms confounded a gentleman with 
an aristocrat; a confusion in ideas that is very common, and 
which is far from being unnatural, when it is remembered how 
few formerly ac<{uired any of the graces of deportment who had 
not previousl}' attained positive, exclusive, political rights. A;i 
for the Attorney-Oeneral and his report, Jack had siiffi(;i<;nt 
Bugacity to see it was a document that said one thing and meant 
another; professing deference for a people that it did not stop to 
fompliment with the possession of either common lionesty oi 
good manners. 



^50 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

" I hope my aristocracy is not likely to affect the inteicets of 
my client." 

" No ; there is little danger of that. It is the democracy oi 
the Burtons which will do that. I learn from Johnson that they 
are coming out stronger and stronger ; and I feel certain Williams 
is sure of their testimony. I3y the way, sir, I had a hint from 
him, as we left the court-house, that the five thousand dollars 
might yd take him from the field.'' 

" This Mr. "Williams, as well as yourself, Timms, must be 
more cautious, or the law will yet assert its power. It is very 
much humbled, I am aware, under the majesty of the people 
and a feeble administration of its authority ; but its arm is long, 
and its gripe potent, when it chooses to exert its force. Take 
my advice, and have no more to do with such arrangements." 

The dinner-bell put an end to the discussion. Timms vanished 
like a ghost ; but Dunscomb, whose habits were gentlemanlike, 
and who knew that Mrs. Horton had assigned a particular seat 
to him, moved more deliberately; following his nephew about 
the time Timms was half through the meal. 

An American tavern-dinner, during the sitting of the circuit, 
is everyway worthy of a minute and graphic description; but 
our limits will hardly admit of our assuming the task. If 
" misery makes a man acquainted with strange bed-fellows," so 
does the law. Judges, advocates, witnesses, sheriffs, clerks, con- 
stables, and not unfrequently the accused, dine in common, with 
rail-road speed. The rattling of knives, forks, and spoons, the 
clatter of plates, the rushing of waiters, landlord, landlady, cham- 
luM'-niaids, ostler and bar-keeper included, produce a confusion 
that would do honour to the most profound '' republican simpli- 
city." Everything approaches a state of nature but the eatables; 
and they are invariably overdone. On an evil day, some Yankee 
invented an article termed a "cooking-stove;" and since its ap- 
pearaiice everything like good cookery has vanished from the 



.^')vS r 15 K AV A Y a I) V T II K II l> l' li . 

body of a waiter is no unusual tiling, and iinivorsal aolivity ot 
the tooth. Oonvorsatlon under such oireuuistanoes would 1)6 
truly a sort ot" ventriloquism; the portion of the human fnuuo 
iiK'luded in the term being all in all just at tltat moment. 

Notwithstanding these embarrassments and unpleasant aecom- 
pauinients, Punseomb and his nephew got their dinners, and wcro' 
about to (|uit the table as McBrain entered. The doetor would 
not expose his bride to the confusion of the oonnnon table, whom 
there was so nuieh that is revolting to all trained in the usages 
of goinl eomi>any, singularly blended with a deeeney of deport- 
juent, and a consideration for the rights of each, that servo to 
form bright spots in American character; but he had obtained a 
more private room for the females of his party. 

" We should do pretty well," observed jMcl>rain, in exphvin- 
Ing his aeeommodatious, " were it not for a troublesome neighbour 
in an adjoining room, who is either insane or intoxicated. iMrs. 
llortou has put us in your wing, and I should think you nuist 
xvasionally hear from him too?" 

*' The man is constantly drunk, they tell me, and is a little 
troublesome at times. On the whole, however, he does not annoy 
me nuuh. 1 shall take the liberty of dining with you to-moriMW, 
Ned; this eating against time does not agree with my consti- 
tution." 

'' To-monow ! — 1 was thinking that my examination would 
be ended this afternoon, and that we might i*oturn io town in the 
morning. Vou will remember I have patients to attend to." 

" Vou will have more reason for patience. If you get through 
ii\ a week, you will be lucky." 

'• It is a curious c^ise I I lind all the local faculty ready to 
swear tluough thick and thiu against her. My own opinion is 
llxed — but what is the opinion of one man against those of sevci-al 
iu the same profession?" 

" We will put that question io Mrs. Ilorton, who is coming tc 



I Jl K W AY H <) K T II E 11 O U it. .'J.')!) 

a,!k how WO havo dined — 'J'hank'oo, my good Mrft ilorton, w<; 
liavo done remarkably woU, coriHidcring all the circumstancoH." 

1Mj(; hwidlafjy was pleaH(;<l, and smirked, and cxproHHed her 
crrat.ili«;ut,i(>n. I'ho sous cnfcndu of DuDHComb wan lost upon her; 
and liurnan vanity is very apt to accept the flattering, and to over- 
look the diHagrccahle. She was pleased that the great Vf;rk lawyei 
was Hatisfied. 

iMrs. llorton was an Ameriean landJa/Jy, in tiie Htrictest Hensc 
.)f the word. 1'his implies many features distinct froni her Euro- 
pean counterpart; some of which tell greatly in her favour, and 
others not so much so. Decency of exterior, and a feminine 
deportment, are so characteristic of the sex in this country, that 
tliey need scarcely be adverted to. ^J'here were no sly jokes, no 
(hmhks entendres with Mrs. IIort^)n; who maintained too grave 
a countenance to admit of such liberties. Then, she was entirely 
free from the little expedients of a desire to gain that are naturally 
enough adopted in older communities, where the pressure of 
numbers drives the poor to their wits'-end, in order Ui live. Ame- 
rican abundance had generated American liberality in Mrs. llor- 
ton; and if one of her guests asked for bread, she would give 
him the loaf. She was, moreover, what the country round termed 
'* accommodating;'' meaning that she was obliging and good-na- 
tured. Her faults were a fierce love of gossip, concealed under 
a ved of great indifference and modesty, a prying curiosity, and a 
determination to know everything, touching everybody, who ever 
came under her roof. This hist propensity had got her into 
difficulties, several injurious reporf.s having b(;en traced to her 
tongue, which was indebted to her imagination for fully one-half 
of what she had circulatwJ. It is scarcely necessary to add, thai, 
among the right set, Mrs. llorton was a great talker. As Duns- 
comb was a favourite, he was not likely to escape on the present 
occa^sion ; the room being clear of all the guests but those of his 
own party. 



360 T HE WAYS OF THE H O U H. 

^^ I am glad to get a little quiet talk with you, 'Squire Duns- 
coiub," the landlady commenced ; " for a body can depend on 
what is heard from such authority. Do they mean to hang Mary 
Monson?" 

" It is rather premature to ask that question, Mrs. Horton. 
The jury is empannelled, and there we stand at present/' 

" Is it a good jury ? — Some of our Duke's county juries are 
none too good, they tell me." 

" The whole institution is a miserable contrivance for the 
administration of justice. Could a higher class of citizens com- 
pose the juries, the system might still do, with a few improve- 
ments." 

^' Why not elect them?'' demanded the landlady, who wa.-i, 
ex officio, a politician, much as women are usually politicians in 
this country. In other words, she felt her opinions, without 
knowing their reasons. 

" God forbid, my good Mrs. Horton — we have elective judges; 
that will do for the present. Too much of a good thing is as 
injurious as the positively bad. I prefer the present mode of 
drawing lots." 

" Have you got a Quaker in the box ? — If you have, you are 
safe enough." 

" I doubt if the District Attorney would suffer that ; although 
he appears to be kind and considerate. The man who goes into 
that box must be prepared to hang if necessary." 

" For my part, I wish all hanging was done away with. I 
can see no good that hanging can do a man." 

" You mistake the object, my dear Mrs. Horton, though your 
argument is quite as good as many that are openly advanced on 
the same side of the question." 

"Just hear me, 'Squire," rejoined the woman; for she loved 
dearly to get into a discussion on any question that she was ac 
customed to hear debated among her guests. " The country 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. '.ify{ 

hangs a badj to reform a body ; and what good can that do when 
a body is dead?" 

"Very ingeniously put/' returned the counsellorj politely 
offering his box to the landlady, who took a few grains; and 
then deliberately helping himself to a pinch of snuff — " quite 
as ingeniously as much of the argument that appears in public. 
The objection lies to the premises, and not to the deduction, 
which is absolutely logical and just. A hanged body is certainly 
an unreformed body ; and, as you say, it is quite useless to hang 
in order to reform." 

" There V exclaimed the woman in triumph — '• I toid 'Squire 
Timms that a gentleman who knows as much as you do must be 
on our side. Depend on one thing, lawyer Dunscomb, and you 
too, gentlemen — depend on it, that Mary Monson will never be 
hanged." 

This was said with a meaning so peculiar, that it struck Duns^ 
comb, who watched the woman's earnest countenance while she 
was speaking, with undeviating interest and intensity. 

"It is my duty and my wish, Mrs. Horton, to believe as much, 
and to make others believe it also, if I can," he answered, now 
anxious to prolong a discourse that a moment before he had found 
tiresome. 

" You can, if you will only try. I believe in dreams — and I 
dreamt a week ago that Mary Monson would be acquitted. It 
would be ag'in all our new notions to hang so nice a lady.'' 

" Our tastes might take offence at it ; and taste is of some in- 
fluence yet, I am bound to agree with you." 

" But you do agree with me in the uselessness of hanging, 
when the object is to reform?" 

" Unfortunately for the force of that argument, my dear 
landlady, society does not punish for the purposes of reforma- 
tion — that is a very common blunder of superficial philanthro. 
pists." 

16 



[\{\-j r II K WAYS 1)1'" Till-: 11 () r K. 

" Not Tor the j)ur}H>sos of ivfoniiution, 'Squire ! — Von a.stoiiisb 
luo ! WliYi tor what cLso Hhoulcl it punish ?" 

" Vor its own jiroltvtion. To pivvont others tVoni connnitting 
inunlor, llavo }on no othor reason than yonr divani, my good 
Mrs. llorton, for thinking Mary Monson will be aeiinittod'/'* 

The woman put. on a knowiiii^; look, ami noihlod her heail 
Hii2;nilieantly. At the same time, she i^lancod towards the coun- 
Hollor's eonipaniims, as niueh as to say that their presenee pro- 
ventinl her beini; more explieit. 

'' Ned, tlo me the favour to t;;o to your wife, and tidl her T shall 
stop ir., and say a kind word as 1 jiass her door; — and, traek, go 
and Md Sarali be in iMrs. ]Mel?rain's parlour, ready to give mo 
my morning's kiss." 

'riu' Poetor and John eomplied, li\iviiig Dunseoinb alone with 
the Wiunan. 

** iMay 1 i(^pi\it tlu^ {pie^tion, my good landlady ? — AVhy do 
\im think Mary Mmison is to be aeipiitted T' asked Ounseond), 
in one oi' his st>ftest tones. 

Mrs. I bn-ton mused, seemed anxious to speak, but struggling 
with some j-ower that withheld her. One of her hands was iu a 
piH'ket wluMv the jingling of keys and penee nuule itvS presenee 
known. Prawing forth this hand meehanieally, Punseomb saw 
that it eiMitained several eagles. The woman east her eyes on 
the gold, returned it hastily to her juvket, rubbed her forehead, 
and seemed the wary, prudent landlady oueo more. 

'* 1 hojie von like your room, 'Stpiire," she eried, in a tluv 
nuighlv. inn kec'ping spirit. " It's the very best iu this house; 
though 1 'm obliged io tell Mrs. Mel'raiu the same story as to 
her aj^artment. Hut you have the best. You have a trouble- 
some neighbour between you, I 'm afraid ; but he '11 not bo there 
many days, and I do all 1 ean to keep him (piiet." 

" Is that man era/.y : " asked the eounsellor, rising, pereeiving 
»hat he had iu> more \o i^xpeet from the woman just tluMi ; '' oi 



T II K \V A V H <) K T II K II O Ij It. 



.'.'orj 



Ib he OMly (IniMk ? I li'i.ur liim groun, uikJ tlicn 1 luiur liiiu swear; 
though I cannot nndcvHUind what lio Hnyn." 

" ITc'h 8(!nt liore by Iils friondn; and your wing in ilio only 
place we have to keep hini in. Wlu;n a body is well paid, '.Squire, 
I Kupposc you know that the; fee must not be forgr)tten ? i\ow, 
inn-k(!eperH have fees, as well as you gentlemen of the bar. How 
wonderfully Timms is getting along, Mr. Dunscomb !" 

"I believe his practice increases; and they tell me he stands 
next to Mr. Williams in Duke's." 

" lie does, indeed ; and a ' bright i>arti(;ular star,' as the poet 
.says, has he got to be !" 

" If he be a star at all," answered the counsellor, curling liia 
lip, "it must be a vary particular one, indeed. I am sorry to 
leave you, Mrs. iJorton; but the intermission is nearly up." 

JJunseomb gave a little friendly nod, wiiich tlie landlady 
returned; the former w(;nt his way with singular coolness of 
manner, when it is remoml;-;ic.I that on him rested the responsi- 
bility of defending a fellow-creature from the gallows. What 
rendered this deliberation more remarkable, was the fact that he 
ha<l no faith in the virtue of Mrs. Ilorton's dream. 










3G1 THE WAYS OF THE H O U ii. 



CHAPTER XXIL 

" Wilt thou behold me sinking in my woes, 
And wilt thou not reach out a friendly arm, 
To raise one from amidst this plunge of sorrow?" 

Addison. 

'•Call the names of tlie jurors, Mr. Clerk/^ said the judge. 
" Mr. Sheriif, I do not see the prisoner in her place.'' 

This produced a stir. The jurors were called, and answered 
to their names ; and shortly after, Mary Monson appeared. The 
last was accompanied by the ladies, who might now be said to 
belong to her party, though no one but herself and Marie Moulin 
came within the bar. 

There was profound stillness in the hall, for it was felt that 
no>v the issue of life or death was actually approaching. Mary 
Monson gazed, not with disquietude but interest, at the twelve 
men who were to decide on her innocence or guilt — men of 
habits and opinions so different from her own — men so obnoxious 
to prejudices against those whom the accidents of life had made 
objects of envy or hatred — men too much occupied with the 
cares of existence to penetrate the arcana of thought, and who 
consequently held their opinions at the mercy of others — men 
unskilled, because without practice, in the very solemn and im- 
portant office now imposed on them by the law — men who might 
indeed be trusted, so long as they would defer to the court and 
reason, but who were terrible and dangerous, when thf y listened, 
as is too apt to be the case, to the suggestions of their own im- 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. Sf).") 

pulses, ignorance ar;d prejudice. Yet these men were Mar^ 
Monson's peers, in the eyes of the law — would have been so 
viewed and accepted in a case involving the feelings and practices 
of social castes, about which they knew absolutely nothing, or, 
what is worse than nothing, a very little through the medium of 
misrepresentation and mistaken conclusions. 

It is the fashion to extol the institution of the jury. Our own 
experience, by no means trifling, as foreman, as suitor, and as a 
disinterested spectator, does not lead us to coincide in this opi- 
nion. A narrative of the corrupt, misguided, partial, prejudiced, 
or ignorant conduct that we have ourselves witnessed in these 
bodies, would make a legend of its own. The power that most 
misleads such men, is one unseen by themselves, half the time, 
and is consequently so much the more dangerous. The feelings 
of neighbourhood, political hostility, or party animosities, are 
among the commonest evils that justice has to encounter, when 
brought in contact with tribunals thus composed. Then come 
the feelings engendered by social castes, an inexhaustible source 
of evil passions. Mary Monson had been told of the risks she 
ran from that source ; though she had also been told, and with 
great truth, that so much of the spirit of God still remains in the 
hearts and minds of men, as to render a majority of those who 
were to be the arbiters of her fate conscientious and careful in a 
capital case. Perhaps, as a rule, the singularity of his situation, 
with a man who finds himself, for the first time, sitting as a juror 
in a trial for a human life, is one of the most available correctives 
of his native tendencies to do evil. 

" Mr. District Attorney, are you ready to proceed ?" inquired 
the judge. 

This functionary rose, bowed to the court and jury, and com- 
menced his opening. His manner was unpretending, natural, 
and solemn. Although high talent and original thought are very 
rare in this country, as they are everywhere else, there is a vast. 



.^00 T 11 K W AYS O V T II K II () V it. 

fund of iiitolloct of Ji socoiulary ordor, evor ;it tlio eonuuaiul of 
the public. The District Attorney of Duke's Avas a living witiicst: 
of this truth, lie saw nil within his reach clearly, and, possess- 
ing great experience, he did his duty, o^ this occasion, in a very 
creditable manner. No attempt was made to awaken prejudice 
of any sort against the accused. She was presented by the grand 
Inquest, and it was his and their painful duty, including his 
hoiunir on the bench, to investigate this matter, and make a 
Kolenin decision, on their oaths. JMar}'- IMonson was entitled to 
a fair hearing, to all the advantages that the lenity of the crimi- 
nal law of a. very humane stjitc of society could aflbrd, and "for 
(lod's sake let her be acquitted should the State fail to establish 
her guilt!" 

Mr. District Attorney then proceeded to give a narrative of 
the events as he supposed them to have occurred. He spoke of 
the Goodwins as "jt;oor, but honest" people, a sort of illustration 
that is in much favour, and deservedly so, when true. "Tt 
seems, gentlemen," the District Attorney continued, "that the 
wife hail a prt^pensity, or a fancy, to collect gold pieces, no doubt 
as a store against the wants of age. This money was kept iu a 
stocking, according to the piactice of country ladies, and was 
often exhibited to the neighbours. AVe may have occasion, geu- 
tlemen, to show you that some lifteen or twenty persons, at dif- 
ferent times, have seen and handled this gold. You need not 
be told what natural curiosity is, but must all know how closely 
persons little accustomed to see money of this sort, would be apt 
*o examine the more rare pieces, in particular. There happened 
to be several of these pieces among the gold of Mrs. Goodwin ; 
and one of them was an Italian or a Dutch coin, of the value of 
four dollars, which commonly goes by the name of the king whoso 
likeness is on the piece. This Dutch or Italian coin, no matter 
which, or William, was seen, and handled, anl examined bv" 
-.everal persons, ;u? we shall show you. 



T 11 E W A V S () 1'" T II K II () U U . '.\C>i 

*' Now, geutloiiicii, the stocking that contained the gold coins, 
was kept in a bureau, which bureau was saved from the fire, witli 
idl its conteuis: but the stocking and the gold were missing! 
These facts will be shown to you by proof that puts them beyond 
•I pcradvcnturc. Wc shall next show to you, gentlemen, that on 
;i public examination of the prisoner at the bar, the contents of 
her purse wore laid open, and the Dutch or Italian coin I have 
mentioned was found, along with more than ii hundred dollars 
of other pieces, which being in American coin, cannot so readily 
be identified. 

" The prosecution relies, in a great degree, on the proof that 
will be offered in connection with this piece of money, to esta- 
blish the guilt of the prisoner. We arc aware that, when this 
piece of money was found on her person, she affirmed it was 
hers J that she had been possessed of two such pieces, and that 
the one seen in Mrs. Goodwin's stocking had been a present from 
lierself to that unfortunate woman. 

"Gentlemen, if persons accused of crimes could vindicate 
themselves by their own naked statements, there would be very 
few convictions, lleason tells us that proof must be met by 
proof. Assertions will not be received, as against the accused, 
nor will they be taken in her favour. Your own good sense will 
tell you, gentlemen, that if it be shown that Dorothy Goodwin 
possessed this particular piece of gold, valued it highly, and was 
in the practice of hoarding all the gold she could lay her hands 
on lawfully; that the said Dorothy Goodwin's residence was 
burned, she herself murdered by a savage and cruel blow or blows 
on the occiput, or head ; that Mary Monson, the prisoner at the 
bar, knew of the existence of this little stock of gold coins, had 
Been it, handled it, and doubtless coveted it; residing in the same 
house, with easy access to the bedside of the unhappy couple, 
with easy access to the bureau, to the keys which opened that 
bureau, for its drawers were found locked, ju&i a^ Mrs. Q\>odwiri 



oCii^ THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

was in the habit of leaving them ; — but^ gentlemen, if all tliJB 
be shown to you, and we then trace the aforesaid piece or coin to 
the pocket of Mary Monson, we make out a prima facie case of 
guilt, as I conceive ; a case that will throw on her the onu^i of 
showing that she came in possession of the said piece of coin 
lawfully, and by no improper means. Failing of this, your duty 
will be plain. 

"It is incumbent on the prosecution to make out its case, 
cither by direct proof, on the oaths of credible witnesses, or by 
such circumstances as shall leave no doubt in your minds of the 
guilt of the accused. It is also incumbent that we show that the 
crimes, of which the prisoner is accused, have been committed, 
and committed by her. 

" Gentlemen, we shall offer you this proof. "VYe shall show 
you that the skeletons of which I have spoken, and which lie 
under that pall, sad remains of a most ruthless scene, are beyond 
all question the skeletons of Peter and Dorothy Goodwin. Thia 
will be shown to you by proof; though all who knew the parties, 
can almost see the likeness in these sad relics of mortality. Pe- 
ter Goodwin, as will be shown to you, was a very short, but 
sturdy man, while Dorothy, his wife, was a woman of large size. 
The skeletons meet this description exactly. They were found 
on the charred wood of the bedstead the unhappy couple habitu- 
ally used, and on the very spot where they had passed so many 
previous nights in security and peace. Everything goes to cor- 
roborate the identity of the persons whose remains have been 
found, and I regret it should be my duty to add, that everything 
goes to fasten the guilt of these murders qn the prisoner at the 
bar. 

'' Gentlemen, although we rely mainly on the possession of 
the Dutch or Italian coin, no matter which, to establish the case, 
for the state, we shall offer you a great deal of sustaining and 
Bccondary proof. In the first place, the fact that a female, young, 



THE WAYS 3F CUE II O U K. 369 

fiandsome, well, nay, expensively educated, coming from nobodj 
Knows wb3nce, to go nobody knows whither, should suddenly 
ippcar in a place as retired as the house of Peter Goodwin, why 
no one can say, are in themselves very suspicious. Grentlemen, 
' all is not gold that glitters/ Many a man, and many a woman, 
in places large as New York, are not what they seem to be. 
They dress, and laugh, and sing, and appear to be among the 
gayest of the gay, when they do not know where to lay their 
heads at night. Large towns are moral blotches, they say, on 
the face of the community, and they conceal many things that 
will not bear the light. From one of these large towns, it is to 
be presumed from her dress, manners, education, amusements, 
and all belonging to her, came Mary -Monson, to ask an asylum 
in the dwelling of the Goodwins. Gentlemen, why did sho- 
come ? Had she heard of the hoard of Mrs. Goodwin, and did 
she crave the possession of the gold ? These questions it will be 
vour duty to answer in your verdict. Should the reply be in the 
affirmative, you obtain, at once, a direct clue to the motives for 
the murder. 

" Among the collateral proof that will be offered are the fol- 
' owing circumstances, to which I now ask your particular atten- 
tion, in order that you may give to the testimony its proper value. 
It will be shown that JMary Monson had a larg« sum in gold in 
her possession, after the arson and murders, and consequently 
after the robbery, but no one knew of her having any lefore. 
It will be shown that she has money in abundance, scattering it 
right and left, as tyc suppose to procure her acquittal, and this 
money we believe she took from the bureau of Mrs. Goodwin — 
how much, is not known. It is thought that the sum was very 
large ; the gold alone amounted to near a thousand dollars, and 
two witnesses will testify to a still larger amount in bank notes 
The Goodwins talked of purchasing a farm, valued at five thou- 
ii\m\ dollars ; and as they were known never to run in debt, th^ 



."70 r II 10 w A Y s o K r ii \<: \\ o v r.. 

fair iiifi'ivm-c is, that Ihcy must have had at least that sum b^ 
thoin. A legacy \va.s loft Dorothy Goodwin within the last six 
months, which we hear was very considerable, and wo hope to 
he able io put a witness on the stand who will tell you all 
abont it. 

" J)ut, gentlemen, a cireumstanco wortliy of all attention in an 
investigation like this, is connected with an answer to this ques- 
tion — Who is JMary Monson ? AVhat are hor parentage, birth- 
place, occupation, and jdace of residence '/ Why did she come 
to I)iberry at aUr* In a word, what is her past history if Jjot 
this 1h> satislactorlly explained, and a great ste}) is taken toward.s 
her vindication froni these most grave charges. 8hall we have 
witnesses to cliaracter'/ No one will be happier to listen to them 
than niyscll". My duty is far from pleasant. I sincerely hope 
the pri^;onor will iiiid lawful moans to convince yoir oi' her inno- 
cence. There is not one within the walls of this buildini; who 
will hear sm-h a verdict, if sustained by law and evidence, witli 
j^roator pli>asur(> than it will be hoard by me." 

After pin-suing this vein some time longer, tlie worthy func- 
tionary of thfci state showed a little of that cloven foot which 
Koems to grow on all, even to the cleanest heels, who look to the 
popidar voice for i>roforniont. No matter who the man is, rich 
or poor, young or old, foolish or wise, ho bows down before the 
idol of Numbers, and there worships. Votes being the one thing 
wanted, nuist be bmight by sacrifices on the altar of conscience. 
Now it is by wild, and, half the time, impracticable schemes of 
philanthropy, that while they seem to work good to the majority, 
'ire quite likely to disregard the rights of the minority; now they 
are flourishes against negro slavery, or a revolution in favtnn- of 
the opinvssed inhabitants of Crim-Tartary, of the real st^ite of 
which cvnmtry we are all as ignorant as its inhabitants are igno. 
vant o( us; now, it's an exemption law, to enable a njan to cs* 
capo from the payuient of his just debts, directly in the tooth of 



T II K W A V K O V I' II K II O I' R. .'^7l 

lihc houikI policy, not to say morality, that if a iiiaii owe Lo 
hIiouM 1)0 made to pay as long as be lias anythiiig to do it with; 
uow, it is a hymn in praise of a liberty that the poet neither 
3oniprehends nor cares to look into farther than may suit his own 
selfish patriotism; and now, it is some other of the thousand 
modes adopted by the designing to delude the masses and advance 
themselves. 

On this occasion the District Attorney was very cautious, but 
he showed the cloven foot. He paid a passing tribute to the 
god of Numbers, worshipped before the hierarchy of votes. 
"Gentlemen," he continued, "like myself, you are plain, unpre- 
tending citizens. Neither you, nor your wives and daughters, 
speak in foreign tongues, or play on foreign instruments of uuisic. 
We have been brought up in republican simplicity, [(jjod bless 
it! say we, could we ever meet with it,] and lay no claims to su- 
periority of any sort. Our place is in the body of the nation, 
and there we arc content to remain. We shall pay no respect 
to dress, accomplishments, foreign languages, or foreign music; 
but, the evidence sustaining us, will show the world that the law 
frowns as well on the great as on the little; on the pretending, 
as well as on the unpretending." 

As these grandiose sentiments were uttered, several of tluj ju- 
rors half rose from their scats, in the eagerness to hear, and looks 
of approbation passed from eye to eye. This was accepted as 
good republican doctrine ; no one there seeing, or feeling, as tasto 
und truth would have shown, that the real pretension was on the 
side of an exaggerated self-esteem, that prompted to resistance 
ere resistance was necessary, under the influence of, perhaps, the 
lowest passion of human nature — we allude to envy. With a 
little more in the same vein, the District Attorney concluded hir? 
)pening. 

The great coolness, not to say indifference, with which Mar^ 
Monson listened to this speech, was the subject of general com' 



.^72 THE WAYS OF THE 11 O U K, 

ment among the members of the bar. At times she had been 
attentive; occasionally betraying surprise ; then indignation would 
just gleam in her remarkable eye ; but, on the whole, an uncom- 
mon calmness reigned in her demeanour. She had prepared 
tablets for notes; and twice she wrote in them as the District; 
Attorney proceeded. This was when he adverted to her past 
life, and when he commented on the Dutch coin. While he wag 
speaking of castes, flattering one set under the veil of pretending 
humility, and undermining their opposites, a look of quiet con- 
tempt was apparent in every feature of her very expressive face. 

" If it please the court,'' said Dunscomb, rising in his deli- 
berate way, " before the prosecution proceeds with its witnesses, 
I could wish to appeal to the courtesy of the gentlemen or the 
other side for a list of their names/' 

" I believe we are not bound to furnish any such list," an- 
swered Williams, quickly. 

" Perhaps not bound exactly in law; but, it strikes me, bound 
in justice. This is a trial for a life ; the proceedings are insti- 
tuted by the State. The object is justice, not vengeance — the 
protection of society, through the agency of an impartial, though 
stern justice. The State cannot wish to eifect anything by sur- 
prise. We are accused of murder and arson, with no oth^r notice 
6f what is to be shown, or how anything is to be shown, than 
what is contained in the bill or complaint. Any one can see 
how important it may be to us, to be apprised of the names of 
the witnesses a little in advance, that we may inquire into charac- 
ter and note probabilities. I do not insist on any right ; but I 
ask a favour that humanity sanctions." 

'^ If it please the court," said Williams, " we have an important 
:;rust. I will here say that I impute nothing improper to either 
of the prisoner's counsel ; but it is my duty to suggest the neces- 
sity of our being cautious. A great deal of money has been 
expended already in this case; and there is always danger of 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR o73 

witnesses being bought oflf. On behalf of my client, I protest 
against the demand's being complied with." 

" The court has no objection to the course asked by the pri- 
soner's counsel/' observed the judge, '•'■ but cannot direct it. The 
State can never wish its officers to be harsh or exacting ; but it 
is their duty to be prudent. Mr. District Attorney, are j^ou ready 
with your evidence ? Time is precious, sir." 

The testimony for the prosecution was now offered. We shall 
merely advert to most of it, reserving our details for those wit- 
nesses on whom the cause might be said to turn. Two very 
decent-looking and well-behaved men, farmers who resided in the 
vicinity of Biberry, were put on the stand to establish the leading 
heads of the case. They had known Peter and Dorothy Grood- 
win ; had often stopped at the house ; and were familiarly ac- 
quainted with the old couple, as neighbours. Remembered the 
fire — was present at it, towards its close. Saw the prisoner there ; 
saw her descend, by a ladder; and assisted in saving her effects. 
Several trunks, carpet-bags, bandboxes, writing-desks, musical 
instruments, &c. &c. All were saved, " It seemed io them thai 
they had been placed near the windows, in a way to he handy. ^^ 
After the fire, had never seen or heard anything of the old man 
and his wife, unless two skeletons that had been found were their 
skeletons. Supposed them to be the skeletons of Peter Goodwin 
and his wife" — Here the remains were for the first time on that 
trial exposed to view. " Those are the same skeletons, should 
say — had no doubt of it ; they are about the size of the old 
couple. The husband was short; the wife tall. Little or no 
difference in their height. Had never seen the stocking or the 
gold ; but had heard a good deal of talk of them, having lived 
aear neighbours to the Goodwins five-and-twenty years." 

Dunscomb conducted the cross-examination. He was close, 
lircriminating, and judicious. Separating the hearsay and gossip 
from the facts known, he at once threw the former to the winds. 



?.lG THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

folks arc not t.bout their old ha'nts. The skeletons 1 never savf 
until they were moved from the place where they tell me they 
were found; for I was busy helping to get the articles naved 
under cover." 

" Then you do not pretend to know which skeleton is that of 
a man, or which that of a woman V 

This question was ingeniously put, and had the effect to make 
:dl the succeeding witnesses shy on this point; for it created a 
belief that there was a difference that might be recognized by 
those who are skilled in such matters. The witness assented to 
the view of Dunscomb ; and having been so far sifted as to show 
he knew no more than all the rest of the neighbours, he was 
suffered to quit the stand. The result was that very little was 
actually established by means of this testimony. It was evident 
that the jury was now on the alert, and not disposed to receive 
all that was said as gospel. 

The next point was to make out all the known facts of the 
fire, and of the finding of the skeletons. The two witnesses just 
examined had seen the close of the fire, had heard of the skele- 
tons, but had said very little more to the purpose. Dunscomb 
thought it might be well to throw in a hint to this effect in the 
present state of the case, as he now did by remarking — 

" I trust that the District Attorney will see precisely where he 
stands. All that has yet been shown by legal proof are the facts 
that there were su-ch persons as Peter and Dorothy Goodwin ; 
facts we are not at all disposed to deny '' 

" And that they have not appeared in the flesh since the night 
of the fire?'^ put in Williams. 

" Not to the witnesses ; but, to how many others, does not 
appear." 

'^ Does the learned counsel mean to set up the defence that 
Goodwin and his wife are not dead?'' 

•^ It is for the proseci'tion to show the contrary affirmatively. 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. m77 

[f it be so, it is fair to presume they can do it. All 1 now con- 
tend for, is the fact that we have no proof as yet that either is 
dead. We have proof that the house was burnt; but we are 
now traversing an indictment for murder, and not that for arson. 
As yet, it strikes me, therefore, nothing material has been shown." 

" It is certainly material, Mr. Dunscomb, that there should 
have been such persons as the Goodwins, and that they have dis- 
appeared since the night of the fire ; and this much is proved, 
unless you impeach the witnesses," observed the judge. 

" Well, sir, that much we are not disposed to deny. There 
were such persons as the Goodwins, and they have disappeared 
from the neighbourhood. We believe that much ourselves." 

" Crier, call Peter Bacon." 

Bacon came forward, dressed in an entire new suit of clothes, and 
appearing much more respectable than was his wont. This man's 
testimony was almost word for word as it has already been given 
in the coroner's inquest. He established the facts of the fire, 
about which there could be no prudent contention indeed, and of 
the finding of the skeletons ; for he had been one of those who 
aided in first searching the ruins for the remains. This man told 
his story in an extremely vulgar dialect, as we have had already 
occasion to show; but in a very clear, distinct manner. He 
meant to tell the truth, and succeeded reasonably well ; for it 
does not occur to all who have the same upright intentions to 
efiect their purposes as well as he did himself Dunscomb' s 
cross-examination was very brief; for he perceived it was useless 
to attempt to deny what had been thus proved. 

" Jane Pope" — called out the District Attorney — " Is jMrs. 
Jane Pope in court?" 

The widow Pope was on the spot, and ready and willing to 
answer. She removed her bonnet, took the oath, and was shown 
to the seat with which it is usual to accommodate persons of 
her sex. 



\< t () T 11 K W A Y S () F T II K II O U fl . 

folks are iiol :.boiit their oUl lia'nts. The sliolctous 1 novel' 8;uv 
until they were moved from the phiee where they tell ino they 
were found; for I w:is busy helping to get the articles saved 
under cover." 

" Then you do not pretend to know whieli skeleton is that of 
h man, or whieh that of a woman T' 

'J'his question was ingeniously put, and had the elleet to make 
.dl the succeeding witnesses shy on this point; for it created a 
belief that there was a dilTorenec that might be recognized by 
those who arc skilled in such matters. The witness assented to 
the view of Punseomb ; and having been so f:u* sifted as to show 
he knew no nun-e than all the rest of the neighbours, he was 
suiVered to quit the stand. The result was that very little was 
actually established by means of this testimony. It was evident 
that the jury was now on the alert, and not disposed to receive 
all that was said as gospel. 

The next point was to make out all the known facts of the 
Ihv, and of the finding of the skeletons. The two witnesses just 
exauiined had seen the close of the fuv, had heard of the skele- 
tons, but had said very little more to the purpose. Dunscomb 
thought it might be well to throw in a hint to this effect in the 
present state of the case, as he now did by remarking — 

" 1 trust that the District Attorney will see precisely where he 
stands. All that has yet been shown by legal proof are the facts 
(hat there were smdi persons as Peter and Porothy Goodwin ; 
facts we are not at all dlsj^osed to deny '' 

'' And that they have not appeared in the flesh since the night 
of the fire?'' put in Williams. 

" Not to the witnesses j but, to how many othei*s, does not 
appear." 

'' "Does the learned counsel mean to set up the defence that. 
Goodwin and his wife are not dead?" 

'"' It is for the prosectiou to show the contrary atfirmativelv. 



THE WAVB OF THE HOUR. ^H 

[f it be so, it is fair to presume tlioy can do it. All 1 now cou- 
tend for, is the fact that we have no proof as yet that either is 
dead. We have proof that the house was burnt; but we are 
now traversing an indictment for murder, and not that for arson. 
As yet, it strikes me, therefore, nothing material has been shown." 

" It is certainly material, Mr. Dunscomb, that there should 
have been such persons as the Goodwins, and that they have dis- 
appeared since the night of the fire ; and this much is proved, 
unless you impeach the witnesses," observed the judge. 

" Well, sir, that much we are not disposed to deny. There 
were such persons as the Goodwins, and they have disappeared 
from the neighbourhood. We believe that much ourselves." 

" Crier, call Peter Bacon." 

liacon came forward, dressed in an entire new suit of clothes, and 
appearing much more respectable than was his wont. This man's 
testimony was almost word for word as it has already been given 
in the coroner's inquest. lie established the facts of the fire, 
about which there could be no prudent contention indeed, and of 
the finding of the skeletons ; for he had been one of those who 
aided in first searching the ruins for the remains. This man told 
his story in an extremely vulgar dialect, as we have had already 
occasion to show; but in a very clear, distinct manner. lie 
meant to tell the truth, and succeeded reasonably well; for it 
does not occur to all who have the same upright intentions to 
eficct their purposes as well as he did himself Dunscomb's 
cross-examination was very brief; for he perceived it was useless 
to attempt to deny what had been thus proved. 

" Jane Pope" — called out the District Attorney — " Is Mrs. 
Jane Pope in court?" 

The widow Pope was on the spot, and ready and willing to 
answer. She removed her bonnet, took the oath, and was shown 
to the seat with which it is usual to accommodate persona of 
her sex. 



378 TIIK WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

" Your name," said Dunscorab; holding liis pen over the papei. 
" Pope — Jane Pope since my marriage ; but Jane Anderson 
from my parents." 

Dunscomb listened politely, but recorded no more than the 
appellation of the widow. Mrs. Pope now proceeded to tell hei 
story, which she did reasonably well, though not without a good 
deal of unnecessary amplitude, and some slight contradictions. 
It was her intention, also, to tell nothing but the trutli; but 
persons whose tongues move as nimbly as that of this woman's; 
do not always know exactly what they do say. Dunscomb de- 
tected the contradictions ; but he had the tact to see their cause^ 
saw that they were not material, and wisely abstained from con- 
founding whatever of justice there was in the defence with points 
that the jury had probably sufficient sagacity to see were of no 
great moment. lie made no note, therefore, of these little over- 
sights, and allowed the woman to tell her whole story uninter 
ruptcd. When it came to his turn to cross-examine, however, 
the duty of So doing was not neglected. 

" You say, IMrs. Pope, that you had often seen the stocking in 
which Mrs. Goodwin kept her gold. Of what material was that 
stocking?" 

" Wool — yes, of blue woollen yarn. A stocking knit by hand, 
and very darny." 

" Should you know the stocking, Mrs. Pope, were you to sec 
it again?'' 

'< I think I might. Dolly Goodwin and I looked over the 
gold together more than once ; and the stocking got to be a sort 
of acquaintance." 

" Was this it?" continued Dunscomb, taking a stocking of the 
sort described from Timms, who sat ready to produce the article 
at the proper moment. 

" If it please the court," cried Williams, rising in haste, and 
preparing eagerly to interrupt the examination. 



T 11 E V,' \ V $ O F T [I K H O 17 R, r57« 

•'* Tour pardon, sir," put in Dunscomb, with great self-com- 
mand, but very firmly — " words must not be put into tlie wit- 
ness's mouth, nor ideas into her head. She has sworn, may it 
please your honour, to a certain stocking; which stocking she. 
described in her examination in chief; and we now ask her if 
this is that stocking. All this is regular, I believe ; and I trust 
we are not to be interrupted." 

" Go on, sir," said the judge ; " the prosecution will not in- 
terrupt the defence. But time is very precious." 

"Is this the stocking ?'' repeated Dunscomb. 

The woman examined the stocking, looking inside and out, 
turning it over and over, and casting many a curious glance at 
the places that had been mended. 

" It 's dreadful darney, isn't it V she said, looking inquiringly 
at the counsellor. 

" It is as you see. Ma'am. I have made no alteration in it." 

" I declare I believe this is the very stocking." 

" At the proper time, your honour, we shall show that this is 
not the stocking^ if indeed there ever was such a stocking at all," 
said Timras, rolling up the article in question, and handing it to 
the clerk to keep. 

" You saw a certain piece of gold, you say," resumed Duns- 
comb, " which piece of gold I understand you to say was after- 
wards found in the pocket of Mary Monson. Will you have the 
goodness to say whether the piece of gold which you saw in Mrs. 
Goodwin's possession is among these ?'* — showing a dozen coins; 
"or whether one resembling it is here?" 

The woman was greatly puzzled. She meant to be honest ; 
had told no more than was true, with the exception of the little 
embellishments that her propensity to imagine and talk rendered 
almost unavoidable ; but, for the life of her, she could not dis- 
tinguish the piece of money, or its counterpart. After examining 
the coins for several minutes she frankly admitted her ignorance 



:3S0 T II K \V AYS OF THE HO U It. 

" It is scarcely necessary to continue this cross-examination/' 
said Dunsconib, looking at his watch. " I shall ask the court to 
adjourn, and to adjourn over until morning. We have reached 
the hour for lighting candles ; but we have agents out in quest 
of most important witnesses; and we ask the loss of this evening 
as a fa\ our. It can make no great difference as to the length of 
the trial; and the jurors will be all the fresher for a good night's 
rest." 

The court acquiesced, and allowed of the adjournment, giving 
the jury the usual charge about conversing or making up their 
opinions until they had heard the whole testimony; a charge 
that both Williams and Timms took very good care to render of 
no use in several instances, or as regarded particular individuals 

A decided impression was made in favour of the prisoner b}; 
Mm. Pope's failure to distinguish the piece of money. In her 
examination in chief she saw no difhculty in recognizing the 
single piece then shown to her, and which was the Dutch coin 
actually found in Mary Monson's purse ; but, when it was put 
among a dozen others resembling it, more or less, she lost all 
confidence in herself, and, to a certain point, completely broko 
down as a witness. But Dunsconib saw that the battle had not 
yet in truth begun. What had passed was merely the skirmish- 
ing of light troops, feeling the way for the advance of the heavy 
Rolumns and the artillery that were to decide the fortunes of the 
dity. 



T II K W A Y S O K r i I 



381 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

'*'Tir the wisest .vay, upon all tender topics, to be eilcnt; for he wh) 
takes ui on himself to defend a lady's reputation, only publishes her fa 
vours to the world." — Cumberland, 

The wing of " Ilorton's Inn" that contained the room of Duns 
comb, was of considerable extent, having quite a dozen rooms in 
it, though mostly of the diminutive size of an American tavern 
bed-room. The best apartment in it, one with two windows, and 
of some dimensions, was that appropriated to the counsellor. 
The doctor and his party had a parlour, with two bed-rooms j 
while, between these and the room occupied by Dunscomb, was 
that of the troublesome guest — the individual who was said t^ 
be insane. IMost of the remainder of the wing, which was much 
the most quiet and retired portion of the house, was used for a 
better class of bed-rooms. There were two rooms, however, that 
the providence of Ilorton and his wife had set apart for a very 
different purpose. These were small parlours, in which the ini- 
tiated smoked, drank, and played. 

Nothing sooner indicates the school in which a man has been 
educated, than his modes of seeking amusement. One who hag 
been accustomed to see innocent relaxation innocently indulged, 
from childhood up, is rarely tempted to abuse those habits which 
have never been associated, in his mind, with notions of guilt, 
and which, in themselves, necessarily imply no moral delinquency. 
Among the liberal, cards, dancing, music, all games of skill and 
chance tliat can interest the cultivafod, and drinkfpf?;, in modera 



382 T 11 E W A Y S O r T HE 11 O U U 

tion and of suitable liquors, convey no ideas of wrong doing As 
they have been accustomed to them from early life, and have 
Been them practised with decorum and a due regard to the habits 
of refined society, there is no reason for concealment or conscious- 
ness. On the other hand, an exaggerated morality, which has 
the temerity to enlarge the circle of sin beyond the bounds for 
which it can find any other warranty than its own metaphysical 
inferences, is very apt to create a factitious conscience, that almost 
invariably takes refuge in that vilest of all delinquency — direct 
hypocrisy. This, we take it, is the reason that the reaction of 
ultra godliness so generally leaves its subjects in the mire and 
sloughs of deception and degradation. The very same acts as- 
sume difierent characters, in the hands of these two classes of 
persons ; and that which is perfectly innocent with the first, af 
fording a pleasant, and in that respect a useful relaxation, be- 
comes low, vicious, and dangerous with the other, because tainted 
with the corrupting and most dangerous practices of deception. 
The private wing of Horton's inn, to which there has been aliu- 
sion, furnished an example in point of what we mean, within two 
hours of the adjournment of the court. 

In the parlour of Mrs. McBrain, late Dunscomb's Widow Up- 
dyke, as he used to call her, a little table was set in the middle 
of the room, at which Dunscomb himself, the doctor, his new 
wife and Sarah were seated, at a game of whist. The door was 
not locked, no countenance manifested either a secret conscious- 
ness of wrong, or an overweening desire to transfer another's 
money to its owner's pocket, although a sober sadness might be 
said to reign in the party, the consequence of the interest all took 
m the progress of the trial. 

Within twenty feet of the spot just mentioned, and in the two 
little parlours already named, was a very different set collected. 
It consisted of the rowdies of the bar, perhaps two-thirds of the 
reporters in attendance on Mary Monson's trial, several j^uitors, 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 38?. 

four or five country doctors, wlio had been summoned as wit- 
nesses, and such other equivocal gentry as might aspire to belong 
to a set as polished and exclusive as that we are describing. We 
will first give a moment's attention to the party around the whist- 
•able, in the parlour first described. 

" I do not think the prosecution has made out as well, to-day, 
all things considered, as it was generally supposed it would, '^ 
observed McBrain. " There is the ace of trumps, Miss Sarah, 
and if you can follow it with the king, we shall get the odd 
trick.'' 

" I do not think I shall follow i ; with anything," answered 
Sarah, throwing down her cards. " It really seems heartless to 
be playing whist, with a fellow-creature of our acquaintance on 
trial for her life." 

" T have not half liked the game," said the quiet Mrs. McBrain, 
" but Mr. Dunscomb seemed so much bent on a rubber, I scarce 
knew how to refuse him/' 

"Why, true enough, Tom," put in the doctor, "this is all 
your doings, and if there be anything wrong about it, you will 
have to bear the blame." 

"Play anything but a trump. Miss Sarah, and we get the 
game. You are quite right, Ned" — throwing down the pack — 
" the prosecution has not done as well as I feared they might 
That Mrs. Pope was a witness I dreaded, but her testimony 
amounts to very little, in itself; and what she has said, has been 
pretty well shaken by her ignorance of the coin." 

" I really begin to hope the unfortunate lady may bo inno- 
cent," said the doctor. 

" Innocent !" exclaimed Sarah — " surely, uncle Ned, ycu can 
never have doubted it!" 

McBrain and Dunscomb exchanged significant glances, and the 
last was about to answer, when raising his eyes, he saw a strange 
from glide ijtealthily into the room, and place itself in a dark cor- 



'384 T II K WAYS OF T HE II O U K. 

nor. It was a short, sturdy figure of a niau, with all those signs 
of squalid misery in his countenance and dress that usually de- 
note mental imbecility. He seemed anxious to conceal himself, 
and did succeed in getting more than half of his person beneath 
a shawl of Sarah's, ere he was seen by any of the party but the 
counsellor. It at once occurred to the latter that this was the 
being who had more than once disturbed him by his noise, and 
who Mrs. Ilorton had pretty plainly intimated was out of his 
mind ; though she had maintained a singularly discreet silence 
for her, touching his history and future prospects. She believed 
^' he had been brought to court by his friends, to get some order, 
'or judgment — may be, his visit had something to do with the new 
code, about which 'Squire Dunscomb said so many hard things." 

A little scream from Sarah soon apprised all in the room of 
the presence of this disgusting-looking object. She snatched 
away her shawl, leaving the idiot, or madman, or whatever he 
might, be, fully exposed to view, and retreated, herself, behind 
her uncle's chair. 

"I fancy you have mistaken your room, my friend," said 
Dunscomb, mildly. " This, as you see, is engaged by a card- 
party — I take it, you do not play." 

A look of cunning left very little doubt of the nature of the 
malady with which this unfortunate being was afflicted. He 
made a clutch at the cards, laughed, then drew back, and began 
to mutter. 

"She won't let me play," mumbled the idiot — "she never 
would." 

"Whom do you mean by she'/" asked Dunscomb. "Is it any 
one in this house — IMrs. Ilorton, for instance ?" 

Another cunning look, with a shake of the head, for an an- 
swer in the negative. 

"Be you 'Squire Dunscomb, the great York lawyer?" fiisked 
the stranger, with interest. 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 385 

" Dunscomb is certainly iiij name — thougli I liavo not tho 
pleasure of knowing yours/' 

" I haven't got any name. They may ask me from morning 
to night, and I won't tell. She won't let me." 

" By she, you again mean Mrs. Horton, I suppose ?^^ 

" No I don't. Mrs. Horton 's a good woman ; she gives me 
victuals and drink." 

" Tell us whom you do mean, then." 

"Won't you tell?" 

" Not unless it be improper to keep the secret. Who is thiii 
nhe ?" 

"Why, she:' 

"Ay, but who?" 

" Mary Monson. If you 're the gre^it lawyer from York, and 
they say you be, you must know all about Mary Monson." 

" This is very extraordinary !" said Dunscomb, regarding his 
companion, in surprise. "I do know something about Mary 
Monson, but not all about her. Can you tell me 'any- 
thing?" 

Here the stranger advanced a little from his corner, listened, 
as if fearful of being surprised, then laid a finger on his lip, and 
made the familiar sound for * hush.' 

" Don't let her hear you ; if you do, you may be sorry for it. 
She's a witch!" 

" Poor fellow ! — she seems, in truth, to have bewitched you, 
as I dare say she may have done many another man." 

<•' That has she ! I wish you 'd tell me what I want to know, 
if you really be the great lawyer from York." 

"Put your questions, my friend; I'll endeavour to answer 
Ihem." 

" Who set fire to the house ? Can you tell me that ?" 

" That is a secret yet to be discovered — do you happen to 
know anything about it?" 

17 



ft 



T 11 t: W V Y S OF T HE II O U K. 

Bo in — I think I do. Ask IMary ^Iont;on ; she cmi te. 



yoTi. 

All this was so straiifro, that the whole party now gazed at 
c;ioh other in mute astonishment ; jMel>rain bending his look^^ 
more intently on tlie stranger, in order to aseertain the true na- 
ture of the mental malady' with whieh he was obviously aftlieted. 
In some respects the disease wore the appearance of idiocy; 
then agtuu there were gleams oi' the countenance that savoured 
of absolute madness. 

" You are of opinion, then, that Mary ^lonson knows who set 
fii"e to the house." 

*' Sartnin, she does. I know, too, but I won't tell. They 
might want to hang me, as well as Mary ^louson, if I told. I 
know too much to do anything so foolish, IMary has s;iid they 
would hang mc, if I tell. I dou't want to be hanged, a bit." 

A shudder from Sarah betrayed the effect of these words on 
the listeners ; and Mrs. McBniiu actually rose with the intention 
of sending for her daughter, who was then in the gaol, consoling 
the nuich-injured prisoner, as Anna Updyke firmly believed her 
to be, by her gentle but firm friendship. A word from the doo- 
t)r, however, induced her to resume her seat, and to await the 
result with a greater degree of patience. 

" Mary ]\ronson would seem to be a very prudent counsellor," 
rej oi ned P un seo nib. 

*' Yes; but she isn't the great couusellor from York — you be 
fJuit gentleman, they tell me." 

" May I ask who told you anything about me ?" 

"Nancy Ilorton — and so did Mary Mousou. Nancy Siud if 
I made so much noise, I should disturb the great counsellor from 
York, and he mijiht oet me handed for it. I was only sin<2;iucf 
hymns, and they say it is good for folks in trouble to sing hynuis. 
If you be the great counsellor from York, I wish you would telJ 
:iie one thing. Who got the gold tliat was iu the stocking?'' 



TlIK WAVH OK T II iS II O U It. 



;87 



*^ Do you happen to know anytliin;^ of that stocking, or jf the 
gol*l?" 

" Do I — " looking first ovor one shoulder, thon over the other, 
but hesitating to proceed. " Will they hang irie, if I tell V 

"I should think not; though I can only give you an opinion. 
Do not answer, unless it be agreeable to you." 

" I want U) tell — I want to tell all, but 1 'm ufeard. I don't 
want to be hanged." 

" Well, then, speak out boldly, and I will promise that you 
Bhall not be hanged. Who got the gold that was in th^ 
stocking?" 

"Mary Monson. That's the way she has got bo mueli 
money." 

" I cannot consent to leave Anna another instant in such com- 
pany !" exclaimed the anxious mother. " Go, McBrain, and 
bring her hither at once." 

" You arc a little premature," coolly remarked Dunscomb. 
" This is but a person of weak mind ; and too much importance 
should not be attached to his words. Let us hear what further 
he may have to say." 

It was too late. The footstep of Mrs. IIort^>n was heard in 
the passage; and the extraordinary being vanished as suddenly 
and as stealthily as he had entered. 

"What can be made of this?" Mclirain demanded, when a 
moment had been taken to reflect. 

'Nothing, Ned; I care not if Williams knew it all. The 
testimony of such a man cannot be listened to for an instant. It 
is wrong in us to give it a second thought; though I perceive 
that you do. Half the mischief in the world h caused by mis- 
conceptions, arising from a very numerous family of caascs ; one 
of which is a disposition to fancy a great deal from a little. Do 
you pronounce the man an idiot — or is he a madman ?" 

" lie does not strike me as absolutely either. ThcTc is fjome- 



388 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

thing peculiar in liis case; and I shall ask permission to look 
into it. I suppose we are done with the cards — shall I go for 
Anna?'' 

The anxious mother gave a ready assen^; and McBrain wen^ 
one way, while Dunscomb retired to his own room, not without 
stopping before his neighbour's door, whom he heard muttering 
and menacing within. 

All this time the two little parloui's mentioned were receivii. 
their company. The law is doubtless a very elevated profession, 
when its practice is on a scale commensurate with its true objects. 
It becomes a very different pursuit, however, when its higher 
walks are abandoned, to choose a path amid its thickets and quag- 
mires. Perhaps no human pursuit causes a wider range of cha- 
racter among its votaries, than the practice of this profession. 
In the first place, the difference, in an intellectual point of view, 
between the man who sees only precedents, and the man who 
sees the principles on which they are founded, is as marked as 
the difference between black and white. To this great distinction 
in mind, is to be added another that opens a still wider chasm, 
the results of practice, and which depends on morals. While 
one set of lawyers turn to the higher objects of their calling, 
declining fees in cases of obviously questionable right, and 
struo'o-le to maintain their honesty in direct collision with the 
world and its temptations, another, and much the largest, falls 
readily into the practices of their craft — the word seems admi- 
rably suited to the subject — and live on, encumbered and endan- 
gered not only by their own natural vices, but greatly damaged 
by those that in a manner they adopt, as it might be ex officio. 
This latter course is unfortunately that taken by a vast number 
of the members of the bar all over the world, rendering them 
loose in their social morality, ready to lend themselves and their 
talents to the highest bidder, and causing them to be at first 
indifferent, and in the end blind, to the great features of right 



THE WA Y S OF THE H O U K. 381) 

and wrong. These are the moralists who advance the doctrine 
that " the advocate has a right to act as his client would act 3" 
while the class first named allow that " the advocate has a right 
to do what his client has a right to do/^ and no more. 

Perhaps there was not a single member of the profession pre- 
sent that night in the two little parlours of Mrs. Horton, who 
recognized the latter of these rules ; or who did not, at need, 
practise on the former. As has been already said, these were 
the rowdies of the Duke's county bar. They chewed, smoked, 
drank, and played, each and all coarsely. To things that were 
innocent in themselves they gave the aspect of guilt by their 
own manners. The doors were kept locked; even amid their 
coarsest jokes, their ribaldry, their oaths that were often revolt- 
ing and painfully frequent, there was an uneasy watchfulness, as 
if they feared detection. There was nothing frank and manly 
in the deportment of these men. Chicanery, management, double- 
dealing, mixed up with the outbreakings of a coarse standard of 
manners, were visible in all they said or did, except, perhaps, at 
those moments when hypocrisy was paying its homage to virtue. 
This hypocrisy, however, had little, or at most a very indirect 
connection with anything religious. The oflfensive oJQTshoots of 
the exaggerations that were so abounding among us half a cen- 
tury since, are giving place to hypocrisy of another school. The 
homage that was then paid to principles, however erroneous and 
forbidding, is now paid to the ballot-boxes. There was scarcely 
an individual around those card-tables, at which the play was so 
obviously for the stakes as to render the whole scene revolting, 
who would not have shrunk from having his amusements known 
It would seem as if conscience consulted taste. Everything was 
coarse and offensive ; the attitudes, oaths, conversation, liquors, 
md even the manner of drinking them. Apart from the dialogue, 
little was absolutely done that might not have been made to lose 
most of its repulsiveness, by adopting a higher school of manners * 



390 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

Dut of this tli3se scions of a noble stock knew no more than they 
did of the parent stem. 

It is scarcely necessary to say that both "Williams and Timms 
were of this party. The relaxation was, in fact, in conformity 
with their tastes and practices; and each of these excrescences 
of a rich and beneficent soil counted on the meetings in Mrs. 
Ilorton's private rooms, as the more refined seek pleasure in the 
exercise of their tastes and habits. 

" I say, Timms," bawled out an attorney of the name of 
Crooks — "You play'd a trump, sir — all right — go ahead — 
first rate — good play, that — ours dead. I say, Timras, you 're 
going to save Mary Monson's neck. When I came here, ] 
thought she was a case; but the prosecution is making out 
miserably." 

" What do you say to that, Williams?'' put in Crooks's part- 
ner, who was smoking, playing, and drinking, with occasional 
^asides' of swearing, all, as might be, at the same time. "I 
trump that, sir, by your leave — what do you say to that, Wil- 
liams?" 

" I say that this is not the court ; and trying such a cause 
once ought to satisfy a reasonable man." 

" He 's afraid of showing his hand, which I am not," put in 
another, exposing his cards as he spoke. ^' Williams always has 
some spare trumps, however, to get him out of all his difficul- 
ties." 

" Yes, Williams has a spare trump, and there it is, giving me 
the trick," answered the saucy lawyer, as coolly as if he had 
been engaged in an inferior slander-suit. " I shall be at Timma 
pretty much by the same process to-morrow." 

*' Then you will do more than you have done to-day. Master 
Williams. This Mrs. Jane Pope may he a trump, but she is not 
ihe ace. I never knew a witness break down more completely." 

'^ We '11 find the means to set her up again — I think that 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 391 

knave is yours, Green — yes, I now see my game, wliich is to 
take it with the queen — very much, Timms, as we shall heal 
you to-morrow. I keep my trump card always for the last play^ 
you know.'' 

" Come, come, Williams," put in the oldest member of the 
bar, a man whose passions were cooled bj time, and who had 
more gravity than most of his companions — " Come, come, Wil- 
liams, this is a trial for a life, and joking is a little out of place." 

" I believe there is no juror present, Mr. Marvin, which is all 
the reserve the law exacts." 

" Although the law may tolerate this levity, feeling will not. 
The prisoner is a fine young woman ; and for my part, though I 
wish to say nothing that may influence any one's opinion, I have 
heard nothing yet to justify lin indictment, much less a convic- 
tion." 

Williams laid down his cards, rose, stretched his arms, gaped, 
and taking Timms by the arm, he led the latter from the room. 
Not content with this, the wary limb of the law continued to 
move forward, until he and his companion were in the open air. 

" It is always better to talk secrets outside than inside of a 
house," observed Williams, as soon as they were at a safe dis- 
tance from the inn-door. " It is not too late yet, Timms — you 
must see how weak we are, and how bunglingly the District At- 
torney has led off. Half those jurors will sleep to-night with a 
feeling that Mary Monson has been hardly dealt by." 

^' They may do the same to-morrow night, and every night in 
the month," answered Timms. 

" Not unless the arrangement is made. We have testimony 
enough to hang the governor. '^ 

" Show us your list of witnesses, then, that we may judge of 
this for ourselves. '^ 

" That would never do. They might be bought off for half 
the money that is necessary to take us out of the field. Fivf 



M^'2 T H K ^V V Y S O V T 11 K 11 o r K. 

tbousnnd dollars vwu W no groat mat tor for suoli a >voinan and 
her frionds." 

" Whom do you suppose to be lier friends, AVilllanis ? — Tf you 
know tlioni, you are better informed than hor own eounsel." 

" Yes, and a pretty point that will make, whon piest^ed agjiinst 
you. No, no, Timnis ; your oliont has boon ill-ailvisod, or she is 
unaooountably obstinate. She has friends, although you may not 
know who they are ; and friends who oan, and who would very 
promptly help her, if she would eonsont to ask thoir assistance. 
Indeed, I suspect she has cash enough on hand to buy us off." 

" Five thousand dolIai*s is a large sum. Williams, and is not 
often to be found in l^iberry g:iol. But, if jMary IMonson has 
these friends, name thorn, that we may apply for thoir assist- 
ance." 

" ITarkoo, Timms; you are not a man so ignorant of what is 
going on in the world, as to require to be told the lettci*s of the 
alj>habot. You know that thci-e arc extensive associations of 
rogues in this young country, as well .as in most that .arc older.'' 

** What has that io do with Mary ]Monson and our case?'' 

*' Everything. This IMary Monson has boon sent here to got 
at the gold of the poor old dolt, who has not been able to conceal 
her treasure after it was hoarded. She made a sub-treasury of 
hor stocking, and exhibited the coin, like any other sul)-tre;i^urcr. 
Many persons like \o look at it, just to feast their eyes." 

" More to finger it ; and you are of the number, Williams ! " 

" I admit it. The weakness is general in the profession, I 
believe. Init this is idle talk, and we are losing very prooious 
time. Will you, or will you not, apply ag-iiin to your client for 
the money y 

" Answer mo candidly, a question or two, and I will do as you 
desire. You know, Williams, that we are old friends, and never 
had any soriinis difliculty since we have boon called to the bar " 

"Oh, assuredly," answered William?, with an ironical smile 



T UK VV A y H OK T H K u o i; K. .'iO'» 

that it niir.^l)t liavo bcf^ri fortunate for tljo negotiation the ohmiir'iiy 
conceal';'] from liin companion; " exwilont frionrJ:-; from tho ho- 
ginning, I'irnmH, and Jikoly to continue ho, I tniHt, to the ha8t. 
Men who know each otlier oh well oh you and J, ought t/> be on 
the best of tcnns. For my part, I never liarbourc<^l a wrangle 
at the bar in my rnind five minutcH aft/;r I left the court. Now 
for your question/' 

" You Burely (]f> not Bet down Mary .^Ion.son a:^ the ntool- 
pigcon of a set of York thieves!" 

"Who, or what else can nha Ix;, Mr. Timms? Jietter wlu- 
cat(3d, and belonging to an ^ upper ten' in villany, but of a com- 
pany of rogues. Now, these knaves stand by each otlier much 
more faithfully than the bo^Jy of the citizens hUuA by the law; 
and the five thounand will be forthcoming for the a.sking." 

" Are you serious in wishing me to believe you think my client 
guiby!'' 

Here Williams made no bones of laughing outright. It is 
true that he suppressed the noise immediately, lest it should 
attract attention; but laugh he did, and with right gorxl will. 

" Come, Timms, you have asked your question, and I leave 
you U) answer it yourself. One thing I will say, however, in 
the way of admonition, which is this — we shall make out such a 
case against her to-morrow an would hang a governor, as I have 
alreafly told you." 

" I believe you've done your worst already — why not let me 
know the names of your witnesses?" 

" You know the rcjison. We wish the whole sum ourselves, 
and have no fancy to its being scattered all over Duke's. I give 
you my honour, Timms — and you know what that is — I give 
you my honour that we h(;ld this testimony in reserve." 

" In which case the District Attorney will bring the witnesses 
:)n the stand; and we shall gain nothing, after all, by your with 
irawal." 



y94 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

" The District Attorney has left the case very much to me. i 
have prepared his brief, and have taken care to keep to myself 
enough to turn the scales. If I quit, Mary Monson will be 
acquitted — if I stay, she will be hanged. A pardon for her will 
be out of the question — she is too high among the ^ upper ten' 
to expect that — besides, she is not an anti-renter." 

" I wonder the thieves do not combine, as well as other folks, 
and control votes !'^ 

" They do — these anti-renters belong to the gangs, and have 
already got their representatives in high places. They are ^ land- 
pirates,' while your client goes for the old stockings. The differ- 
ence in principle is by no means important, as any clear-headed 
man may see. It is getting late, Timms." 

^^ I cannot believe that Mary Monson is the sort of person you 
take her for! Williams, I've always looked upon you, and 
treated you, as a friend. You may remember how I stood by 
you in the Middlebury case?'' 

" Certainly — you did your duty by me in that matter, and I 
have not forgot it." 

The cause alluded to was an action for a " breach of promise," 
which, at one time, threatened all of Williams's " future useful- 
ness," as it is termed ; but which was put to sleep in the end by 
means of Timms's dexterity in managing the " out-door" points 
of a difl&cult case. 

" Well, then, be mjj friend in this matter. I will be honest 
with you, and acknowledge that, as regards my client, I have 
had — that is provided she is acquitted, and her character comes 
out fair — that I have had — and still have, for that matter — 
what " 

" Are called ^ ulterior views.' I understand you, Timms, and 
have suspected as much these ten days. A great deal depends on 
what you consider a fair character. Taking the best view of her 
situation, Mary Monson will have been tried for murder and arson." 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 395 

" Not if acquitted of the first. I have the District Attorney's 
promise to consent to a nolle prosequi on the last indictment, if 
we traverse the first successfully." 

" In which case Mary Monson will have been tried for murdei 
only," returned Williams, smiling. " Do you really think, Timras, 
that your heart is soft enough to receive and retain an impression 
as deep as that made by the seal of the court?'' 

" If I thought, as you do, that my client is or has been con' 
nected with thieves, and burglars, and counterfeiters, I would not 
think of her for a moment as a wife. But there is a vast differ- 
ence between a person overtaken by sudden temptation and one 
who sins on calculation, and by regular habit. Now, in my 
own case, I sometimes act wrong — yes, I admit as much as 
that " 

" It is quite unnecessary," said Williams, drily. 

" It is not according to Christian doctrine to visit old ofiences 
on a sinner's head, when repentance has washed away the crime." 

" Which means, Timms, that you will marry Mary Monson, 
although she may be guilty ; provided always, that two very im- 
portant contingencies are favourably disposed of." 

" What contingencies do you allude to, Williams ? I know 
of none." 

" One is, provided she will have you ; the other is, provided 
she is not hanged." 

" As to the first, I have no great apprehension ; women that 
have been once before -a covj-t, on a trial for a capital offence, are 
not very particular. On my side, it will be easy enough to per- 
suade the public that, as counsel in a most interesting case, I 
became intimately acquainted with her virtues, touched by her 
misfortunes, captivated by her beauty and accomplishments, and 
finally overcome by her charms. I don't think, Williams, that 
=;uch an explanation would fail of its effect, before a caucus even. 
Men are always favourably disposed to those they think worse 



306 THE AVAYS OF THE HOUR. 

off than tliey are themselves. A good deal of capital is made 
on that principle." 

" I do not know that it would. Now-a-days the elections 
generally turn more on public principles than on private conduct. 
The Americans are a most forgiving people, unless you tell them 
the truth. That they will not pardon.'' 

" Nor any other nation, I fancy. Human natur' revolts at it. 
But ihaf — snapping his fingers — "for your elections; it is the 
caucuses that I lay myself out to meet. Give me the nomination^ 
and I am as certain of my seat as, in the old countries, a first- 
born is to his father's throne.'' 

" It is pretty safe as a rule, I allow ; but nominations some- 
times fail." 

" Not when regular, and made on proper principles. A nomi- 
nation is almost as good as popularity." 

" Often better ; for men are just asses enough to work in the 
collar of party, even when overloaded. But all this time the 
night is wearing away. If I go into court in the morning, it 
will be too late. This thing must be settled at once, and that in 
a very explicit manner." 

" I wish I knew what you have picked up concerning Mary 
Monson's early life !" said Timms,like a man struggling with doubt. 

" You have heard the rumour as well as myself. Some say 
she is a wife already; while others think her a rich widow. My 
opinion you know ; I believe her to be the stool-pigeon of a York 
gang, and no better than she should be." 

This was plain language to be addressed to a lover ; and Wil- 
liams meant it to be so. He had that sort of regard for Timms 
which proceeds from a community in practices, and was disposed 
to regret that a man with whom he had been so long connected 
either as an associate or an antagonist, should marry a woman of 
the pursuits that he firmly believed marked the career of Mar} 
M on son. 



r H -ff W A V S OF THE 11 .> U K. 



;si>7 



The gentlemen of the bar are no more to be judged by appear- 
ances than the rest of mankind. They will wrangle, and secui 
to be at sword's points with each other, at one moment ; when 
the next may find them pulling together in harmony in the next 
case on the calendar. It was under this sort of feeling that 
Williams had a species of friendship for his companion. 

" I will try, Williams," said the last, turning towards the 
gaol. " Yes, I will make one more trial." 

" Do, my good fellow — and, Timms — remember one thing, 
you can never miirry a wJniaii that has been banged." 



b98 T JIE \V A 1 3 () F T II E HOUR. 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

" The time is precious ; I 'II about it straight.*' 

Earl of Essex. 

The gaol presented a very different scene. A solemn stillness 
reigned in its gallery; and even good Mrs. Gott had become 
weary with the excitement of the day, and had retired to rest. 
A single lamp was burning in the cell ; and dark forms were 
dimly visible in the passage, without the direct influence of its 
rays. Two were seated, while a third paced the stone but car- 
peted pavement, with a slow and quiet step. The first were the 
shadowy forms of Anna Updyke and Marie Moulin ; the last, 
that of Mary Monson. For half an hour the prisoner had been 
on her knees, praying for strength to endure a burthen that sur- 
passed her expectations ; and, as is usual with those who look 
above for aid, more especially women, she was reaping the benefit 
of her petition. Not a syllable had she uttered, however, since 
quitting the cell. Her voice, soft, melodious, and lady-like, was 
now heard for the first time. 

" My situation is most extraordinary, Anna," she said ; " it 
proves almost too much for my strength ! This has been a terri- 
ble day, calm as I may have appeared ; and I fear that the 
morrow will be still harder to be borne. There is an expression 
about the eyes of that man, Williams, that both alarms and dis- 
gusts me. I am to expect in him a most fiery foe." 

" Why, then, do you not escape from scenes for which you aro 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. '399 

SO unsuited and leave this saucy Williams to himself, and hi& 
schemes of plunder?" 

"That would not do. Several sufficient reasons exist for 
remaining. Were I to avail myself of the use of the keys I 
possess, and quit the gaol not to return, good Mrs. Gott and her 
Imsband would probably both be ruined. Although they art 
ignorant of what money and ingenuity have done for me, it would 
be difficult to induce the world to believe them innocent. But a 
still higher reason for remaining is the vindication of my own 
character." 

" No one will think of confounding you with Mary Monson ; 
and by going abroad, as you say it is your intention to do, you 
would effectually escape from even suspicion." 

" You little know the world, my dear. I see that all the 
useful lessons I gave you, as your school-mamma, are already 
forgotten. The six years between us in age have given me an 
experience that tells me to do nothing of the sort. Nothing is 
so certain to follow us as a bad name; though the good one is 
easily enougn forgotten. As Mary Monson, I am indicted for 
thsse grievous crimes; as Mary Monson will I be acquitted of 
them. I feel an affection for the character, and shall not degrade 
it by any act as base as that of flight." 

" Why not, then, resort to the other means you possess, and 
gain a speedy triumph in open court?'' 

As Anna put this question, Mary Monson came beneath the 
light and stopped. Her handsome face was in full view, and her 
friend saw an expression on it that gave her pain. It lasted only 
a moment; but that moment was long enough to induce Anna to 
wish she had not seen it. On several previous occasions this 
same expression had rendered her uneasy; but the evil look was 
soon forgotten in the quiet elegance of manners that borrowed 
charms from a countenance usually as soft as the evening sky in 
Beptember. Ere she resumed her walk, Mary Monson shook heT 



4U0 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

heud in dissent from the proposition of her friend, and passed on, 
a, shadowy but graceful form, as she went down the gallery. 

" It would be premature," she said, " and I should fail of my 
object. I will not rob that excellent Mr. Bunscomb of his honest 
triumph. How calm and gentlemanlike he was to-day ; yet how 
firm and prompt, when it became necessary to show these quali 
ties.'' 

" Uncle Tom is all that is good ; and we love him as we would 
love a parent." 

A pause succeeded, during which Mary Monson walked along 
the gallery once, in profound thought. 

" Yours promises to be a happy future, my dear," she said. 
" Of suitable ages, tempers, stations, country — yes, country ; foi 
an American woman should never marry a foreigner V 

Anna Updyke did not reply ; and a silence succeeded that was 
interrupted by the rattling of a key in the outer door. 

" It is your new father, Anna, come to see you home. Thank 
you, kind-hearted and most generous-minded girl. I feel the 
sacrifices that you and your friend are making in my behalf, and 
shall carry the recollection of them to the grave. On her, I had 
no claims at all; and on you, but those that are very slight. 
You have been to me, indeed, most excellent friends, and a great 
support when both were most needed. Of my own sex, and of 
the same social level, I do not now see how I should have got on 
without you. Mrs. Gott is kindness and good-nature themselves; 
but she is so difierent from us in a thousand things, that I have 
often been pained by it. In our intercourse with you, how dif- 
ferent ! Knowing so much, you pry into nothing. Not a question, 
not a look to embarrass me ; and with a perfect and saint-liko 
reliance on my innocence, were I a sister, your support could not 
be more warm-hearted or firm." 

After a short pause, in which this singular young woman 
smiled, and appeared to be talking to herself, she continued, 



TUE WAYS OF THE IIODR. 401 

after kissing her companion most affectionately for good-night, 
and walking with her as far as the door of the gallery, where it 
had been announced that tlic doctor was waiting for his step- 
daughter — 

" I wish I knew whether the same faith goes through the con- 
nection — Mr. John "VVilmeter ?'' 

" Oh ! He is persuaded of your entire innocence. It was he 
who excited so much interest in me, on your behalf, before I had 
the least idea of our having ever met before." 

'^ He is a noble-hearted young man, and has many excellent 
qualities — a little romantic, but none the worse for that, my 
dear, as you will find in the end. Alas ! alas ! Those marriages 
that are made over a rent-roll, or an inventory, need a great deal 
of something very different from what they possess, to render 
them happy ! Mr. Wilmeter has told mo that no evidence 
could make him believe in my guilt. There is a confidence that 
might touch a woman's heart, Anna, did circumstances admit of 
such a thing. I like that Michael ^Millington, too ; the name is 
dear to me, as is the race of which he comes. No matter ; the world 
va son train, let us regret and repine as we may. And Uncle 
Tom, Anna — what do you think of his real opinion ? Ts it in 
my favour or not?'' 

Anna Updyke had detected in Duuscomb a disposition to 
doubt, and was naturally averse to communicating a fact so un- 
pleasant to her friend. Kissing the latter affectionately, she 
hurried away to meetMcBrain, already waiting for her without. 
In quitting the dwelling of the building annexed to the gaol, 
the doctor and Anna met Timms hurrying forward to seek an 
interview with his client before she retired to rest. An appli- 
cation at once obtained permission for the limb of the law to 
enter. 

" I ha^'e come. Miss Mary," as Timms now called Iiis client, 
^ on what I fear will prove a useless errand ; but which I have 



iO'2 



THE WAYS OF THE H O U K. 



thought it 111}- duty to see performed, as your best friend, and 
one of your legal advisers. You have already heard what I had 
to say on the subject of a certain proposal of the next of kin to 
withdraw from the prosecution, which will carry W'ith him thii 
Williams, with whom I should think you would, by this time, 
be heartily disgusted. I come now to say that this offer it^ 
repeated with a good deal of emphasis, and that you have stiU 
an opportunity of lessening the force that is pressing on youi 
interests, by at least one-half. Williams may well count foi 
more than half of the vigour and shrewdness of what is doing 
for the State in your case." 

" The proposal must be more distinctly made, and you mus^ 
let me have a clear view of what is expected from me, Mr. Timms, 
before I can give any reply," said Mary Monson. " But you 
may wish to be alone with me before you are more explicit. I 
will order my woman to go into the cell." 

" It might be more prudent were we to go into the cell our- 
selves, and leave your domestic outside. These galleries carry 
Bounds like ear-trumpets ; and we never know who may be our 
next neighbour in a gaol." 

Mary Monson quietly assented to the proposal, calling to her 
woman in French to remain outside, in the dark, while she pro- 
fited by the light of the lamp in the cell. Timms followed, and 
closed the door. 

In size, form, and materials, the cell of Mary Monson waa 
necessarily like that of every other inmate of the gaol. Its sides, 
top and bottom, were of massive stones; the two last being flags 
of great dimensions. But taste and money had converted even 
this place into an apartment that was comfortable in all respecte 
but that of size. Two cells opening on the section of gallery 
that the consideration of Mrs. Gott had caused to be screened 
off, and appropriated to the exclusive use of the fair prisoner, 
one had been furnished as a sleeping apartment, while that in 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 403 

wbich 'l^mmb was now received had more the air of a sort of 
boudoir. It was well carpeted, like all the rest of what might 
be termed the suite ; and had a variety of those little elegancies 
that women of cultivated tastes and ample means are almost cer- 
tain to gather about them. The harp which had occasioned so 
much scandal, as well as a guitar, stood near by ; and chairs of 
different forms and various degrees of comfort, crowded the room, 
perhaps to superfluity. As this was the first time Timms had 
been admitted to the cell, he was all eyes, gazing about him at 
the numerous signs of wealth it contained, with inward satisfac- 
tion. It was a minute after he was desired to be seated before 
he could comply, so lively was the curiosity to be appeased. It 
was during this minute that Marie Moulin lighted four candles, 
that were already arranged in bronzed candlesticks, making a 
blaze of light fo'r that small room. These candles were of sper- 
maceti, the ordinary American substitute for wax. Nothing that 
he then saw, or had ever seen in his intercourse with his client, 
so profoundly impressed Timms as this luxury of light. Accus- 
tomed himself to read and write by a couple of small inferior 
articles in tallow, when he did not use a lamp, there seemed to 
be something regal to his unsophisticated imagination, in this 
display of brilliancy. 

Whether Mary Monson had a purpose to answer in giving 
Timms so unusual a reception, we shall leave the reader to dis- 
cover by means of his own sagacity; but circumstances might 
well lead one to the conclusion that she had. There was a satis- 
fied look, as she glanced around the cell and surveyed its arrange- 
ments, that possibly led fairly enough to such an inference. 
Nevertheless, her demeanour was perfectly quiet, betraying none 
of the fidgeting uneasiness of an underbred person, lest all might 
not be right. Every arrangement was left to the servant; and 
when Marie Moulin finally quitted the cell and closed the door 
behind her, every thought of the apartment and what it con- 



4U4 THE WAYS OF THE II O U K. 

taincd seemed to vanish from the mind of her extraordinary 
mistress. 

^' Before you proceed to communicate the purpose of your visit, 
Mr. Timms," Mary Monson said, " I shall ask permission to put 
a few questions of my own, touching the state of our cause 
Have we gained or lost by this day's proceedings ?'' 

" Most clearly gained, as every man at the bar will confirm by 
his opinion." 

" That has been my own way of thinking ; and I am glad to 
hear it corroborated by such competent judges. I confess the 
prosecution does not seem to me to show the strength it really 
possesses. This Jane Pope made a miserable blunder about the 
piece of coin." 

" She has done the other side no great good, certainly." 

"How stands the jury, Mr. Timms?'' 

Although this question was put so directly, Timms heard it 
with uneasiness. Nor did he like the expression of Mary Mon- 
son's eyes, which seemed to regard him with a keenness that 
might possibly imply distrust. But it was necessary to answer ; 
though he did so with caution, and with a due regard to his own 
safety. 

" It is pretty well,'^ he said, " though not quite as much 
opposed to capital punishment as I had hoped for. We challenged 
off one of the sharpest chaps in the county, and have got in his 
place a man who is pretty much under my thumb." 

"And the stories — the reports — have they been well circu- 
lated?'' 

" A little too well, I 'm afraid. That concerning your having 
married a Frenchman, and having run away from him, has gone 
through all the lower towns of Duke's like wild-fire. It has even 
reached the ears of 'Squire Dunscomb, and will be in the York 
papers to-morrow." 

A little start betrayed the surprise of the prisoner ; and a loolj 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 40ij 

accompanied it, which would seem to denote di&'^atisfaction that a 
tale put in circulation by herself, as it would now appear, had 
gone quite so far. 

" Mr. Dunscomb I" she repeated, musingly. " Anna Updyke'ti 
uncle Tom ; and one whom such a story may very well set think- 
ing. I wish it had not reached him, of all men, Mr. Timms." 

" If I may judge of his opinions by some little acts and ex- 
pressions that have escaped him, I am inclined to think he 
believes the story to be, in the main, true." 

Mary Monson smiled ; and, as was much her wont when think- 
ing intensely, her lips moved; even a low muttering became 
audible to a person as near as her companion then was. 

" It is now time, Mr. Timms, to set the other story in motion," 
she said, quickly. "Let one account follow the other; that will 
distract people's belief. We must be active in this matter." 

" There is less necessity for our moving in the affair, as Wil- 
liams has got a clue to it, by some means or other ; and his men 
will spread it far and near, long before the cause goes to the 

" That is fortunate V exclaimed the prisoner, actually clapping 
her pretty gloved hands together in delight. " A story as terrible 
as that must react powerfully, when its falsehood comes to be 
shown. I regard that tale as the cleverest of all our schemes, 
Mr. Timms." 

"Why — yes — that is — I think. Miss Mary, it may be set 
down as the boldest.'' 

" And this saucy Williams, as you call him, has got hold cf it 
already, and believes it true V 

" It is not surprising ; there are so many small and probable 
facts accompanying it." 

" I suppose you know what Shakspeare calls such an invention, 
Mr. Timms?" said Mary Monson, smiling. 

"I am not particularly acquainted with tl^at author, ma'am. 



106 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

I know there was such a writer, and that he was thought a good 
deal of, in his day ; but I can't say I have ever read him." 

The beautiful prisoner turned her large expressive blue eyea 
on her companion with a gaze of wonder ; but her breeding pre- 
vented her from uttering what she certainly thought and felt. 

"Shakspearc is a writer very generally esteemed," she an- 
swered, after one moment of muttering, and one moment to con- 
trol herself; " I believe he is commonly placed at the head of 
our English literature, if not at the head of that of all times 
and nations — Homer, perhaps, excepted." 

" What ! higher, do you think, Mies Mary, than Blackstone 
and Kent!'' 

" Those are authors of whom I know nothing, Mr. Timms ; 
but now, sir, I will listen to your errand here to-night." 

" It is the old matter. "Williams has been talking to me again, 
touching the jSve thousand dollars." 

" Mr. Williams has my answer. If five thousand cents would 
buy him off, he should not receive them from me." 

This was said with a frown ; and then it was that the observer 
had an opportunity of tracing in a face otherwise so lovely, the 
lines that indicate self-will, and a spirit not easily controlled. 
Alas ! that women should ever so mistake their natural means to 
influence and guide, as to have recourse to the exercise of agents 
that they rarely wield with effect ; and ever with a sacrifice of 
womanly character and womanly grace. The person who would 
draw the sex from the quiet scenes that they so much embellish, 
to mingle in the strifes of the world ; who would place them in 
.-stations that nature has obviously intended men should occupy, 
is not their real friend, any more than the weak adviser who 
resorts to reputed specifics when the knife alone can effect a cure. 
The Creator intended woman for a " help-meet," and not for the 
/lead of the family circle ; and most fatally ill-judging are the 
laws that would fain disturb the order of a domestic government 



THE WAYS OF THE HO U K. 



40? 



wliich is directly derived from divine wisdom as from divine 
benevolence. 

" I told him as much, Miss Mary/* answered Timms ; " but 
he does not seem disposed to take ^no' for an answer. Williams 
has the true scent for a dollar." 

" I am quite certain of an acquittal, Mr. Timms ; and having 
endured so much, and hazarded so much, I do not like to throw 
away the triumph of my approaching victory. There is a power- 
ful excitement in my situation ; and I like excitement to weak- 
ness, perhaps. No, no ; my success must not be tarnished by 
any such covert bargain. I will not listen to the proposal for 
an instant!'' 

'^I understand that the raising of the sum required would 
form no particular obstacle to the arrangement ?" asked Timms, 
in a careless sort of way that was intended to conceal the real 
mterest he took in the reply. 

" None at all. The money might be in his hands before the 
court sits in the morning; but it never shall be, as coming from 
me. Let IMr. Williams know this definitively ; and tell him to 
ao his worst." 

Timms was a little surprised, and a good deal uneasy at this 
manifestation of a spirit of defiance, which could produce nc 
good, and which might be productive of evil. While he was 
delighted to hear, for the fourth or fifth time, how easy it would 
be for his fair client to command a sum as large as that demanded, 
he secretly determined not to let the man who had sent him on 
his present errand know the temper in which it had been received. 
Williams was sufficiently dangerous as it was ; and he saw all tho 
hazard of giving him fresh incentives to increase his exertions. 

" And now, as this matter is finally disposed of, Mr, Timms — 
for I desire that it may not be again mentioned to me" — resumed 
the accased, " let us say a word more on the subject of our new 
report Your agent has set on foot a story that I belong to a 



408 T II E W A y S O F THE HOUR. 

gang of wretches who are combined to prey on society ; and that, 
in this character^ I came into Duke's to carry out one of its nc- 
ftirious schemes ?'' 

" That is the substance of the rumour we have started at your 
own desire ; though I could wish it were not quite so strong, and 
that there were more time for the reaction." 

" The strength of the rumour is its great merit ; and, as for 
time, we have abundance for our purposes. Reaction is the great 
power of popularity, as I have heard, again and again. It is 
always the most effective, too, at the turn of the tide. Let the 
public once get possessed with the notion that a rumour so inju- 
rious has been in circulation at the expense of one in my cruel 
condition, and the current of feeling will set the other way in a 
torrent that nothing can arrest !'' 

" I take the idea. Miss Mary, which is well enough for certain 
cases, but a little too hazardous for this. Suppose it should be 
ascertained that this report came from us ?'^ 

" It never can be, if the caution I directed was observed. You 
have not neglected my advice, Mr. Timms?'' 

The attorney had not ; and great had been his surprise at the 
ingenuity tmd Jinesse manifested by this singular woman, in setting 
afloat a report that would certainly act to her injury, unless arrested 
and disproved at a moment most critical in her future fate. Ne- 
vertheless, in obedience to Mary Monson's positive commands, 
this very bold measure had been undertaken ; and Timms was 
waiting with impatience for the information by means of which 
he was to counteract these self-inflicted injuries, and make them 
the instruments of good, on the reaction. 

If that portion of society which takes delight in gossip could 
be made to understand the real characters of those to whom they 
commit the control of their opinions, not to say principles, there 
would bo far more of reserve and self-respect observed in the 
submission to this social evil, than there is at present. Malice, 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 400 

the inward impulses of the propagators of a lie, and cupidity, 
are at the bottom of half the tales that reach our ears ; and in 
those cases in which the world in its ignorance fancies it has 
some authority for what it says, it as often happens that some 
hidden motive "is at the bottom of the exhibition as the one which 
seems so apparent. There are a set of vulgar vices that may be 
termed the " stereotyped," they lie so near the surface of human 
infirmities. They who are most subject to their influence always 
drag these vices first into the arena of talk ; and fully one-half 
of that of this nature which we hear, has its origin as much in 
the reflective nature of the gossip's own character, as in any facts 
truly connected with the acts of the subjects of his or her stories. 

But Mary Monson was taking a far higher flight than the 
circulation of an injurious rumour. She believed herself to bo 
putting on foot a master-stroke of policy. In her intercourse 
with Timms, so much was said of the power of opinion, that 
she had passed hours, nay days, in the study of the means to 
control and counteract it. Whence she obtained her notion 
of the virtue of reaction it might not be easy to say ; but her 
theory was not without its truth ; and it is certain that her means 
of producing it were of remarkable simplicity and ingenuity. 

Having settled the two preliminaries of the rumour and of 
Williams's proposition, Timms thought the moment favourable 
to making a demonstration in his own afilxirs. Love he did not 
yet dare to propose openly ; though he had now been, for some 
time, making covert demonstrations towards the tender passion. 
In addition to the motive of cupidity, one of great influence with 
such a man, Timms's heart, such as it was, had really yielded to 
the influence of a beauty, manners, accomplishments, and infor- 
mation, all of a class so much higher than he had been accus- 
tomed to meet with, as to be subjects of wonder with him, not to 
Bay of adoration. This man had his affections as well as another; 
?ind, while John Wilmeter had submitted to a merely passing 

18 



410 



THE ^V A y S OF THE HOUR. 



inclination, as much produced by the interest he took in an un- 
known female's situation as by any other cause, poor Timms had 
been hourly falling more and more in love. It is a tribute to 
nature, that this passion can be, and is, felt by all. Although a 
purifying sentiment, the corrupt and impure can feel its power, 
and, in a greater or less degree, submit to its influence, though 
their homage may be tainted by the grosser elements that are so 
largely mixed up with the compound of their characters. We 
may have occasion to show hereafter how far the uncouth attorney 
of Mary Monson succeeded in his suit with his fair client. 




THE W i Y S OF THE HOUR. 411 



CHAPTER XXV. 

" I challenge envy, 
Malice, and all the practices of hell, 
To censure all the actions of my past 
Unhappy life, and taint me if they can." 

The Orphan. 

It is to be presumed that Timms found the means to communi- 
cate to Williams the rejection of the latter's offer, before tho 
court met next morning. It is certain that the counsel associated 
with the Attorney-General manifested unusual zeal in the per- 
formance of duties that most men would have found unpleasant, 
if not painful, and that he was captious, short, and ill-natured. 
Just as Mary Monson came within the bar, a letter was put into 
the hands of Dunscomb, who quietly broke the seal, and read it 
twice, as the observant Timms fancied ; then put it in his pocket, 
with a mien so undisturbed that no mere looker-on would have 
suspected its importance. The letter was from Millington, and 
it announced a general want of success in his mission. The 
whereabouts of M. de Larocheforte could not be ascertained ; and 
those who knew anything about his movements, were of opinion 
that he was travelling in the "West, accompanied by his fair, ac- 
complished, and affluent young consort. None of those who 
would naturally have heard of such an event, had it occurred, 
could say there had ever been a separation between the French 
husband and the American wife. Millington, himself, had never 
seen his kinswoman, there being a coolness of long standing be- 
tween the two branches of the family, and could give little or no 
information on the subject. In a word, he could discover nothiag 



4 12 T IJ E WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

to enable him to carry out the clue obtained in the rumour ; while^ 
on the other hand, he found a certain set, who occupied them- 
selves a good deal with intelligence of that sort, were greatly dis- 
posed to believe the report, set on foot by herself, that IMary 
Monson was a stool-pigeon of a gang of marauders, and doubtless 
guilty of everything of which she had been accused. Milling-ton 
would remain in town, however, another day, and endeavour to 
push his inquiries to some useful result. Cool, clear-headed, and 
totally without romance, Dunscomb knew that a better agent 
than his young friend could not be employed, and was fain to 
wait patiently for the discoveries he might eventually succeed in 
making. In the mean time the trial proceeded. 

"Mr. Clerk,'' said his honour, "let the jury be called." 
This was done, and Mary Monson' s lips moved, while a lurk- 
ing smile lighted her countenance, as her eyes met the sympathy 
that was expressed in the countenances of several of the grave 
men who had been drawn as arbiters, in her case, between life 
and death. To her it was apparent that her sex, her youth, per- 
haps her air and beauty, stood her friends, and that she might 
largely count on the compassion of that small but important body 
of men. One of her calculations had succeeded to the letter. 
The tale of her being a stool-pigeon had been very actively cir- 
culated, with certain additions and embellishments that it was 
very easy to disprove ; and another set of agents had been hard 
at work, all the morning, in brushing away such of the collateral 
circumstances ais had, at first, been produced to confirm the main 
story, and which, in now being pulled to pieces as of no account, 
did not. fail to cast a shade of the darkest doubt over the whole 
rumour. All this IMary IMonson probably understood, and un- 
derstanding, enjoyed ; a vein of wild wilfulness certainly running 
through her character, leading in more directions than one. 

" I hope there will be no delay on account of witnesses," ob- 
i;erved the judge. " Time is very precious." 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 41;> 

'^ We are armed at all points, your honour, and intend to bring 
the matter to an early conclusion,'' answered Williams, casting 
one of those glances at the prisoner which had obtained for him 
the merited sohriquel of " saucy." " Crier, call Samuel Bur. 
ton." 

Timms fairly started. This was breaking ground in a new 
spot, and was producing testimony from a source that he much 
dreaded. The Burtons had been the nearest neighbours of the 
Goodwins, and were so nearly on a social level with them, as to 
live in close and constant communication. These Burtons con- 
sisted of the man, his wife, and three maiden sisters. At one 
time, the last had conversed much on the subject of the murders; 
but, to Timms' great discontent, they had been quite dumb of 
late. This had prevented his putting in practice a method of 
anticipating testimony, that is much in vogue, and which he had 
deliberately attempted with these sometime voluble females. As 
the reader may not be fully initiated in the mysteries of that 
sacred and all-important master of the social relations, the law, 
we shall set forth the manner in which justice is often bolstered, 
when its interests are cared for by practitioners of the Timms' 
and Williams' school. 

No sooner is it ascertained that a particular individual has a 
knowledge of an awkward fact, than these worthies of the bar set 
to work to extract the dangerous information from him. This is 
commonly attempted, and often effected, by inducing the witness 
to relate what he knows, and by leading him on to make state- 
ments that, on being sworn to in court, will either altogether in- 
validate his testimony, or throw so much doubt on it as to leave 
It of very little value. As the agents employed to attain this 
end are not very scrupulous, there is great danger that their ima- 
ginations may supply the defects in the statements, and substitute 
words and thoughts that the party never uttered. It is so easy 
to mistake another's meaning, with even the best intentions, that 



ii 4 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

we are not to be surprised if this should seriously happen when 
the disposition is to mislead. With the parties to suits, this arti- 
fice is often quite successful, admissions being obtained, or sup- 
posed to be obtained, that they never, for an instant, intended to 
make. In the states where speculation has cornered men. and 
left them loaded with debt, these devices of the eaves-droppers 
and suckers are so common, as to render their testimony no im- 
material feature in nearly every cause of magnitude that is tried. 
In such a state of society it is, indeed, unsafe for a suitor to open 
his lips on his affairs, lest some one near him be employed tc 
catch up his words, and carry them into court with shades of 
meaning gathered from his own imagination. 

At first, Timms was under the impression that the Burtons 
were going to sustain the defence, and he was placing himself on 
the most amiable footing with the females, three of whom might 
very reasonably be placed within the category of matrimony with 
this rising lawyer ; but, it was not long ere he ascertained that 
Williams was getting to be intimate, and had proved to be a suc- 
cessful rival. Davis, the nephew and heir of the Goodwins, was 
a single man, too, and it is probable that his frequent visits to 
the dwelling of the Burtons had a beneficial influence on his own 
interests. Let the cause be what it might, the effect was clearly 
to seal the lips of the whole family, not a member of which could 
be induced, by any art practised by the agents of Timms, to utter 
a syllable on a subject that now really seemed to be forbidden. 
When, therefore. Burton appeared on the stand, and was sworn, 
the two counsel for the defence waited for him to open his lips, 
with a profound and common interest. 

Burton knew the deceased, had lived all his life near them, 
was at home the night of the fire, went to assist the old people, 
saw the two skeletons, had no doubt they were the remains of 
Peter Goodwin and his wife, observed the effects of a heavy blow 
across the foreheads of each, the same that was still to be seen, 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 415 

inferred that this blow had destroyed them, or so far stunned 
them as to leave them incapable of escaping from the fire. 

This witness was then questioned on the subject of the stock- 
ing, and Mrs. Goodwin's hoard of money. He had seen the 
stocking but once, had often heard it mentioned by his sisters. 
did not think his wife had ever alluded to it, did not know the 
amount of the gold, but supposed it might be very considerable, 
saw the bureau examined, and knew that the stocking could not 
be found. In a word, his testimony in chief went generally to 
sustain the impression that prevailed relative to the murders, 
(hough it is unnecessary to repeat it in this form, as the cross- 
3xamination will better explain his statements and opinions. 

"Mr. Burton,' ' said Dunscomb, "you knew the Goodwin? 
well?" 

" Very well, sir. As well as near neighbours generally know 
each other.'' 

"Can you swear that those are the skeletons of Peter and 
Dorothy Goodwin?" 

" I can swear that I believe them to be such — have no doubt 
of the fact." 

" Point out that which you suppose to be the skeleton of Peter 
Goodwin." 

This request embarrassed the witness. In common with all 
around him, he had no other clue to his facts than the circum- 
stances under which these vestiges of mortality had been found, 
and he did not know what ought to be his reply. 

" I suppose the shortest of the skeletons to be Peter Good- 
win's, and the longest that of his wife," he at length answered. 
'^ Peter was not as tall as Dorothy." 

" Which is the shortest of these remains ?" 

" That I could not say, without measuring. I know that 
Goodwin was not as tall as his wife by half an inch, for I have 
Heen tlem measure." 



4 1 T H K W AYS OF THE II O L :i. 

" Theu you would say that, iu your opinion, the longest of 
these two skeletons is that of Dorothy Goodwin, and the shoitcst 
that of her husband?" 

" Yes, sir ; that is my opinion — formed to the best of my 
knowledge. I have seen them measure." 

"Was this measurement accurate?" 

" Very much so. They used to dispute about their height^ 
and they mctisured several times, when I was by ; generally in 
their stocking feet, and once barefoot." 

"The difference being half an inch in favour of the wife?" 

*^ Yes, sir, as near as could be ; for I was umpire more than 
on^ic." 

" Did Peter Goodwin and his wife live happily together ?" 

" Tolerable — much as other married folks get along." 

" Exphiiu what you mean by that." 

"Why, there's ups and downs, I suppose, in all families. 
Dorothy was high-tempered, and Peter was sometimes cross- 
grained." 

" Do you mean that they quarrelled ?" 

1^ They got r'iled with each other, now and then." 

"Was Peter Goodwin a sober man?'' 

The witness now appeared to be bothered. He looked around 
him, and meeting everywhere with countenances which evidently 
reflected ^ yes,' he had not the moral courage to run counter to 
public opinion, and say ' no.' It is amazing what a tyrant this con- 
centration of minds gets to be over those who are not very clear- 
headed themselves, and who are not constituted, morally, to resist 
its influence. It almost possesses a power to persuade these per 
sons not to put faith in their own senses, and disposes them to 
believe what they hear, rather than what they have seen. In- 
deed, one cfioct is to cause them to see with the eyes of others: 
As the * neighbours,' those inquisitors who know so much of per- 
sons of their association and intimacy, and so little of all others, 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR, 



417 



very generally faucicd Peter a sober man, Burton scarce knew 
what to answer. Circumstances had made him acquainted with 
the delinquency of the old mars^ but his allegations would not be 
sustained were he to speak the whole truth, since Peter had suc- 
ceeded in keeping his infirmity from being generally known. To 
a man like the witness, it was easier to sacrifice the truth than 
to face a neighbourhood. 

*'I suppose he was much as others/' answered Burton, after 
a delay that caused some surprise. " He was human, and had a 
human natur'. Independence days, and other rejoicings, I 've 
known him give in more than the temperance people think is 
quite right ; but I shouldn't say he was downright intemperate." 

" He drank to excess, then, on occasions V 

" Peter had a very weak head, which was his greatest diffi- 
culty." 

" Did you ever count the money in Mrs. Goodwin's stocking ?'* 

" I never did. There was gold and paper ; but how much I 
do not know." 

" Did you see any strangers in or about the house of the 
Goodwins, the morning of the fire?'' 

" Yes ; two strange men were there, and were active in help- 
ing the prisoner out of the window, and afterwards in getting 
out the furniture. They were very particular in saving Mary 
Monson's property." 

"Were those strangers near the bureau?" 

'^Not that I know. I helped carry the bureau out myself j 
fud I was present afterwards in court when it was examined for 
the money. We found none." 

"What became of those strangers?" 

" I cannot tell you. They wero lost to me in the confusion." 

"Had you ever seen them before?" 

" Never." 

" Nor fcince?" 



as THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

"No, sir." 

" Will you have the goodness to take that rod, and tell me 
what is the difference in length between the two skeletons ?" 

" I trust, youi- honour, that this is testimony which will not 
be received," put in Williams. " The fact is before the jury, 
and they can take cognizance of it for themselves." 

Dunscomb smiled as he answered — 

" The zeal of the learned gentleman runs ahead of his know- 
ledge of the rules of evidence. Does he expect the jury to 
measure the remains; or are we to show the fact by means of 
witnesses?'' 

" This is a cross-examination ; and the question is one in chief. 
The witness belongs to the defence, if the question is to be put 
at all." 

" I think not, your honour. The witness has testified, in chief, 
that he believes these remains to be those of Peter and Dorothy 
Goodwin; he has further said, on his cross-examination, that 
Dorothy was half an inch taller than Peter; we now wish to put 
to the test the accuracy of the first opinion, by comparing the 
two facts — his knowledge of the difference by the former mea- 
surement as compared with the present. It has been said that 
these two skeletons are very nearly of a length. We wish the 
truth to be seen." 

" The witness will answer the question," said the judge. 

" I doubt the power of the court to compel a witness to obtain 
facts in this irregular mode," observed the pertinacious AVilliams. 

" You can note your exceptions, brother Williams," returned 
the judge, smiling ; " although it is not easy to see with what 
u jeful consequences. If the prisoner be acquitted, you can hardly 
expect to try her again ; and, if convicted, the prosecution will 
scarcely wish to press any objection." 

Williams, who was as much influenced by a bull-dog tenacity, 
as by an}- other motive, now submitted ; and Burton took the 



THE W A r b OF THE HOUR. 419 

rod and measured the skeletons, an ojQBce he might have declined, 
most probably, had he seen fit. The spectators observed surprise 
in his countenance ; and he waa seen to repeat the measurement, 
seemingly with more care. 

" "Well, sir, what is the difference in the length of those 
skeletons?^' inquired Dunscomb. 

" I make it about an inch and a half, if these marks are to be 
relied on," was the slow, cautious, well-considered reply. 

" Do you now say that you believe these skeletons to be the 
remains of Peter and Dorothy Goodwin?" 

" Whose else can they be ? They were found on the spot 
where the old couple used to sleep." 

" I ask you to answer my question ; I am not here to answer 
yours. Do you still say that you believe these to be the skeletons 
of Peter and Dorothy Groodwin?'' 

" I am a good deal non-plussed by this measurement — though 
the flesh, and skin, and muscles, may have made a considerable 
difference in life." 

" Certainly," said Williams, with one of his withering sneers 
— sneers that had carried many a cause purely by their impu- 
dence and sarcasm — " Every one knows how much more muscle 
a man has than a woman. It causes the great difference in their 
Rtrength. A bunch of muscles, more or less in the heel, would 
explain all this, and a great deal more." 

" How many persons dwelt in the house of Goodwin at the 
time of the fire?" demanded Dunscomb. 

" They tell me Mary Monson was there, and I saw her there 
during the fire ; but I never saw her there before." 

" Do you know of any other inmate besides the old couple and 
the prisoner?" 

" I did see a strange woman about the house for a week or twc 
before the fire, but I never spoke to her. They tell me she wap 
High Dutch." 



120 THE WAYS OF THE II O U K. 

'^ Never mind what they tell you, Mr. Burton" —observed 
the judge — " testify only to what you know." 

" Did you see this strange woman at the fire, or after the fire ?" 
continued Dunscomb. 

" I can't say that I did. I remember to have looked round 
for her, too; but I did not find her.'' 

" Was her absence spoken of in the crowd at the time V 

^^ Something was said about it; but we were too much taken 
up with the old couple to think a great deal of this stranger." 

This is an outline of Burton's testimony; though the cross- 
examination was continued for more than an hour, and Williams 
had him again examined in chief. That intrepid practitioner 
contended that the defence had made Burton its own witness in 
all that related to the measurement of the skeletons ; and that 
he had a right to a cross-examination. After all this contest, the 
only fact of any moment elicited from the witness related to the 
difference in stature between Goodwin and his wife, as has been 
stated already. 

In the mean time, Timms ascertained that the last report set 
on foot by his own agents, at the suggestion of Mary Monson 
herself, was circulating freely ; and, though it was directly op- 
posed to the preceding rumour, which had found great favour 
with the gossips, this extravagant tale was most greedily swal- 
lowed. We conceive that those persons who are so constituted, 
morally, as to find pleasure in listening to the idle rumours that 
float about society, are objects of pity; their morbid desire to talk 
of the affairs of others being a disease that presses them down 
beneath the level they might otherwise occupy. With such per- 
sons, the probabilities go for nothing ; and they are more inclined 
to give credit to a report that excites their interest, by nmning 
counter to all the known laws of human actions, than to give 
faith to its contradiction, when sustained by every reason that 
experience sustains. Thus was it on the present occasion. There 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 421 

was something so audacious in the rumour that JMary Monsjn 
belonged to a gang of rogues in town, and had been sent espe- 
cially to rob the Goodwins, that vulgar curiosity found great 
delight in it ; the individual who heard the report usually send- 
ing it on with additions of his own, that had their authority 
purely in the workings of a dull imagination. It is in that way 
that this great faculty of the mind is made to perform a double 
duty ; which in the one case is as pure and ennobling, as in the 
other it is debasing and ignoble. The man of a rich imagination, 
he who is capable of throwing the charms of poetical feeling 
around the world in which we dwell, is commonly a man of truth. 
The high faculty which he possesses seems, in such cases, to be 
employed in ferreting out facts which, on proper occasions, he 
produces distinctly, manfully, and logically. On the other hand, 
there is a species of subordinate imagination that is utterly inca- 
pable of embellishing life with charms of any sort, and which 
delights in the false. This last is the imagination of the gossip. 
It obtains some modicum of fact, mixes it with large quantities 
of stupid fiction, delights in the idol it has thus fashioned out 
of its own head, and sends it abroad to find worshippers as dull, 
as vulgar-minded, and as uncharitable, as itself 

Timms grew frightened at the success of his client's scheme, 
and felt the necessity of commencing the reaction at once, if the 
last were to have time in which to produce its effect. He had 
been warmly opposed to the project in the commencement, and 
had strenuously resisted its adoption ; but Mary Monson would 
not listen to his objections. She even threatened to employ an- 
other, should he fail her. The conceit seemed to have taken a 
strong hold on her fancy ; and all the wilfulness of her character 
had come in aid of this strange scheme. The thing was done ; 
and it now remained to prevent its effecting the mischief it was 
BO well adapted to produce. 

All this time, the fair prisoner sat in perfectly composed 



122 THE WAYS OF THE H O U K. 

3ilence, listening attentively to everything that was said, and 
occasionally taking a note. Timms ventured to suggest that it 
might be better were she to abstain from doing the last, as it 
gave her the air of knowing too much, and helped to deprive her 
of the interesting character of an unprotected female ; but she 
turned a perfectly deaf ear to his admonitions, hints, and counsel. 
He was a safe adviser, nevertheless, in matters of this sort ; but 
Mary Monson was not accustomed so much to follow the leadings 
of others, as to submit to her own impulses. 

The sisters of Burton were next examined. They proved ah 
the admitted facts ; testified as to the stocking and its contents ; 
and two of them recognised the piece of gold which was said to 
have been found in Mary Monson's purse, as that which had 
once been the property of Dorothy Goodwin. On this head, the 
testimony of each was full, direct, and explicit. Each had often 
seen the piece of gold, and they had noted a very small notch 
or b'cratch near the edge, which notch or scratch was visible on 
the piece now presented in court. The cross-examination failed 
to shake this testimony, and well it might, for every word these 
young women stated was strictly true. The experiment of placing 
the piece of coin among other similar coin, failed with them. 
They easily recognized the true piece by the notch. Timms was 
confounded ; Dunscomb looked very grave ; Williams raised his 
nose higher than ever; and Mary Monson was perfectly sur- 
prised. When the notch was first mentioned, she arose, advanced 
far enough to examine the coin, and laid her hand on her fore- 
head, as if she pondered painfiilly on the circumstance. The 
testimony that this was the identical piece found in her purse 
was very ample, the coin having been sealed up and kept by the 
coroner, who had brought it into court; while it must now be 
admitted that a very strong case was made out to show that 
this foreign coin had once been among the hoards of Dorothy 
Goodwin. A very deep impression was made by this testimony. 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 42 'l 

on all who heard it, including the court, the bar, the jury and 
the audience. Every person present, but those who were in the 
immediate confidence of the accused, was firmly convinced of 
Mary Monson's guilt. Perhaps the only other exceptions to this 
mode of thinking were a few experienced practitioners, who, 
from long habit, knew the vast importance of hearing both sides, 
before they made up their minds in a matter of so much moment. 

"We shall not follow Dunscomb through his long and arduous 
cross-examination of the sisters of Burton ; but confine ourselves 
to a few of the more pertinent of the interrogatories that he put 
to the eldest, and which were duly repeated when the other two 
were placed on the stand. 

" Will you name the persons dwelling in the house of the 
Goodwins at the time of the fire?" asked Dunscomb. 

" There were the two old folks, th!s Mary JMonson, and a 
German woman named Yetty (Jette), that aunt Dorothy took in 
to wait on her boarders," 

"Was Mrs. Goodwin your aunt, then?" 

" No; we wasn't related no how; but, being such near neigh- 
bours, and she so old, we just called her aunt by way of a com- 
pliment." 

'' I understand that," said Dunscomb, arching his brows — "I 
am called uncle, and by very charming young persons, on the 
same principle. Did you know much of this German ?" 

" I saw her almost every day for the time she was there, and 
talked with her as well as I could ; but she spoke very little 
English. Mary Monson was the only person who could talk 
with her freely ; she spoke her language." 

" Had you much acquaintance with the prisoner at the bar?'* 

" 1 was some acquainted ; as a body always is, when they live 
suoh near neighbours." 

" Were your conversations with the prisoner frequent, or fit 
pJl confidential ?" 



i24 THE Av'AYS OF THE HOUR. 

" To own the truth, I never spoke to her in my life. Mary 
Monson was much too grand for me." 

Dunscomb smiled; he understood how common it was for 
persons in this country to say they are " well acquainted" with 
this or that individual, when their whole knowledge is derived 
from the common tongue. An infinity of mischief is done by 
this practice; but the ordinary American who will admit that 
he lives near any one, without having an acquaintance with him, 
if acquaintance is supposed to confer credit, is an extraordinary 
exception to a very general rule. The idea of being " too grand" 
was of a nature to injure the prisoner and to impair her rights ; and 
Dunscomb deemed it best to push the witness a little on this point. 
" Why did you think Mary Monson was ^ too grand' for you ?'' 
ho demanded. 

" Because she looked so." 

" How did she look ? — In what way does or did her looks 
indicate that she was, or thought herself ' too grand' for your 
association?" 

" Is this necessary, Mr. Dunscomb V demanded the judge. 

" I beg your honour will suffer the gentleman to proceed," put 
in Williams, cocking his nose higher than ever, and looking round 
the court-room with an air of intelligence that the great York 
counsellor did not like. "It is an interesting subject; and we 
poor, ignorant. Duke's county folks, may get useful ideas, to teach 
lU: how to look ^ too grand!'" 

Dunscomb felt that he had made a false step ; and he had the 
self-command to stop. 

"Had you any conversation with the German woman?'' he 
continued, bowing slightly to the judge to denote submission to 
his pleasure. 

" She couldn't talk English. Mary Monson talked with her 
I didn't, to any account." 

"Were you at the fire?" 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 42f) 

"I was." 

'^ Did you sec anything of this German during the fire, or 
afterwards ? " 

'^ I didn't. She disappeared, unaccountable ! " 

" Did you visit the Goodwins as often after Mary Monson 
same to live with them, as you had done previously V 

" I didn't — grand looks and grand language isn't agreeable 
to me." 

"Did Mary Monson ever speak to you?" 

" I think, your honour," objected Williams, who did not like 
the question, " that this is travelling out of the record." 

" Let the gentleman proceed — time is precious, and a discus- 
sion would lose us more of it than to let him proceed — go on, 
Mr. Dunscomb." 

"Did Mary Monson ever speak to you?" 

" She never did, to my knowledge." 

" What, then, do you mean by ^ grand language V " 

" Why, when she spoke to aunt Dorothy, she didn't speak aa 
/ was used to hear folks speak." 

" In what respect was the difference ? " 

" She was grander in her speech, and more pretending like." 

"Do you mean louder?" 

"No — perhaps she wasn't as loud as common — but 'twjis 
more like a book, and uncommon/' 

Dunscomb understood all this perfectly, as well as the feeling 
which lay at its bottom, but he saw that the jury did not; and 
ae was forced to abandon the inquiry, as often happens on such 
occasions, on account of the ignorance of those to whom the 
testimony was addressed. He soon after abandoned the cross- 
examination of the sister of Burton ; when his wife was brought 
upon the stand by the prosecution. 

This woman, coming from a different stock, had none of the 
IkmDy characteristics of the sisters. As they were garrulous, 



426 T II E AV A Y S OF THE 11 O U K. 

forward; and willing enougli to testify, she wa^ silent, reserved 
in manner, thoughtful, and seemingly so diffident that she trem- 
bled all over, as she laid her hand on the sacred volume. Mrs. 
Burton passed for a very good woman among all w^ho dwelt in or 
near Biberry; and there was much more confidence felt in bci 
revelations than in those of her sisters-in-law. Great modesty. 
Dot to say timidity of manner, an air of singular candour, a low, 
gentle voice, and an anxious expression of countenance, as if she 
weighed the import of every syllable she uttered, soon won for 
this witness the sympathy of all present, as well as perfect cre- 
dence. Every word she uttered had a direct influence on the 
case ; and this so much the more since she testified reluctantly, 
and would gladly have been permitted to say nothing. 

The account given by Mrs. Burton, in her examination in 
chief, did not materially difi'er from that previously stated by her 
sisters-in-law. She knew more, in some respects, than those who 
had preceded her, while, in others, she knew less. She had been 
more in the confidence of Dorothy Goodwin than any other mem- 
ber of her family, had seen her oftener, and knew more of her 
private affairs. With the stocking and its contents she ad- 
mitted that she was familiarly acquainted. The gold exceeded 
twelve hundred dollars in amount; she had counted it, in her 
own hands. There was paper, also, but she did not know how 
much, exactly, as Dorothy kept that very much to herself. She 
knew, however, that her neighbours talked of purchasing a farm, 
the price of which was quite five thousand dollars, a sum that 
Dorothy often talked of paying down. She thought the deceased 
must have had money to that amount, in some form or other. 

On the subject of the piece of gold found in Mary Monson's 
purse, Mrs. Burton gave her testimony with the most amiable 
discretion. Every one compared the reserve and reluctance of 
her manner most favourably with the pert readiness of Mrs. Pope 
pjjd the sisters. This witness appeared to appreciate the eifeci 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 427 

of all slie said, and uttered the facts she knew with a gentlenesa 
of manner that gave great weight to her testimony. Dnnscomb 
Boon saw that this was the witness the defence had most reason 
to dread, and he used the greatest care in having every word she 
eaid written out with precision. 

Mrs. Burton swore point blank to the piece of notched gold; 
although she fairly trembled as she gave her testimony. She 
knew it was the very piece that she had often seen in Dorothy 
Groodwin^s possession; she had examined it, at least a dozen 
times, and could have selected it among a thousand similar coinsj, 
by means of its private marks. Besides the notch, there was a 
slight defect in the impression of the date. This had been 
pointed out to her by Dorothy Groodwin herself, who had said it 
was a good mark by which to know the piece, should it be stolen. 
On this head, the witness's testimony was firm, clear, and full. 
As it was corroborated by so much other evidence, the result was 
a deep and very general impression of the prisoner's guilt. 

It was late when the examination in chief of Mrs. Burton ter- 
minated. She stated that she was much fatigued, and was suf- 
fering under a severe headache; and "Williams asked, in her 
behalf, that the court would adjourn over, until next day, ere the 
cross-examination was gone into. This suited Dunscomb's views 
altogether, for he knew he might lose an essential advantage by 
allowing the witness a night to arrange her thoughts, pending so 
searching a process. There being no resistance on the part of 
the prisoner, to the request of the prosecution, the judge so fai- 
waived his regard for the precious time of the court, as to consent 
to adjourn at eight o'clock in the evening, instead of pushing the 
case to ten or eleven. As a consequence the jurors took their 
rest in bed, instead of sleeping in the jury-box. 

Dunscomb left the court-house, that night, dejected, and -vdth 
10 great expectation of the acquittal of his client. Timms had 
a better feeling, and thought nothing had yet appeared that might 
Qot be successfully resisted. 



42.8 



T II B W A. Y S OF THE HOUR, 



CHAPTER XXVL 



" I 've not wrong'd her." 

"Far be it from my fears." 

"Then why this argument?" 

" My lord, my nature 's jealous, and you '11 bear it." 

Otway. 

So great was the confidence of Sarah Wilmeter and Anna Up- 
dyke in the innocence of their friend, that almost every step that 
the trial advanced, appeared to them as so much progress towards 
an eventual acquittal. It was perhaps a little singular, that the 
party most interested, she who knew her own guilt or innocence, 
became dejected, and for the first half hour after they had left 
the court-room, she was silent and thoughtful. Good Mrs. Gott 
was quite in despair, and detained Anna Updyke, with whom 
she had established a sort of intimacy, as she opened the door of 
the gallery for the admission of the party, in order to say a word 
on the subject that lay nearest to her heart. 

" Oh ! Miss Anna,'' said the sheriff's wife, " it goes from bad 
to worse ! It was bad enough last evening, and it is worse to 
night." 

" Who tells you this, Mrs. Gott ? So far from thinking as 
you do, I regard it as appearing particularly favourable." 

" You must have heard what Burton said, and what his wife 
aaid, too. They are the witnesses I dread." 

" Yes, but who will mind what such persons say ! I am sure 
if fifty Mr. and Mrs. Burtons were to testify that Mary Monson 
had taken money that did not belong to her, I should not believe 
them." 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 429 

" You arc not a Duke's county jury ! Why, Miss Anna, these 
men will believe almost anything you tell them. Only swear to 
it, and there 's no accounting for their credulity. No ; I no 
more believe in Mary Monson's guilt, than I do in my own ; but 
law is law, they say, and rich and poor must abide by it." 

*^ You view the matter under a false light, my kind-hearted 
Mrs. Gott, and after a night's rest will see the case differently. 
Sarah and I have been delighted with the course of things. You 
must have remarked no one said that Mary Monson had been 
seen to set fire to the house, or to harm the Goodwins, or to 
touch their property, or to do anything that was wrong ; and of 
course she must be acquitted." 

" I wish that piece of gold had not been found in her pocket ! 
[t's that which makes all the trouble." 

" I think nothing of that, my good friend. There is nothing 
remarkable in two pieces of money having the same marks on 
them ; I have seen that often, myself. Besides, Mary IMonson 
explains all that, and her declaration is as good as that of this 
Mrs. Burton's, any day." 

^^ Not in law. Miss Anna ; no, not in law. Out of doors it 
might be much better, and probably is ; but not in court, by 
what they tell me. Gott says it is beginning to look very darkj 
and that we, in the gaol, here, must prepare for the very worst. 
I tell him, if I was he, I 'd resign before I 'd execute such a 
beautiful creature ! " 

"You make me shudder with such horrid thoughts, Mrs, 
Gott, and I will thank you to open the door. Take courage, 
we shall never have to lament such a catastrophe, or your hus- 
band to perform so revolting a duty." 

" I hope not — I 'm sure I hope not, with all my heart. 1 
would prefer that Gott should give up all hopes of ever rising 
any higher, than have him do this office. One never knows, 
Miss Anna, what is to happen in life, though I was as happy as 



430 T 11 K \V A V 8 O F 



11 U U li. 



a child vvlicii lie was made sheriff. If my words have any weight 
with him, and he often says they have, I shall never let him 
execute Mary Monson. You are young, Miss Anna; but you've 
heard the tongue of flattery, I make no doubt, and know how 
sweet it is to woman's ear." 

Mrs. Gott had been wiping her eyes with one hand, and put^ 
ting the key into the lock with the other, while talking, and she 
now stood regarding her young companion with a sort of motherly 
interest, as she made this appeal to her experience. Anna 
blushed ^rosy red,' and raised her gloved hand to turn the key, 
as if desirous of getting away from the earnest look of the matron. 

" That 's just the way with all of us. Miss Anna !" continued 
Mrs. Gott. " We listen, and listen, and listen ; and believe, and 
believe, and believe, until we are no longer the gay, light-hearted 
creatures that we were, but become mopy, and sighful, and 
anxious, to a degree that makes us forget father and mother, 
and fly from the paternal roof." 

"Will you have the kindness, now, to let me into the gaol?" 
said Anna, in the gentlest voice imaginable. 

" In a minute, my dear — I call you my dear, because I like 
you; for I never use what Gott calls 'high flown.' There is 
Mr. John Wilmeter, now, as handsome and agreeable a youth 
as ever came to Biberry. He comes here two or three times a 
day, and sits and talks with me in the most agreeable way, until 
I 've got to like him better than any young man of my acquamt- 
ancc. lie talks of you, quite half the time ; and when he is not 
talking of you, he is thinking of you, as I know by the way he 
gazes at this very door." 

" Perhaps his thoughts are on Mary Monson," answered Anna, 
blushing scarlet. " You know she is a sort of client of his, and 
tie has been here in her service, for a good while." 

^' She hardly ever saw him ; scarcely ever, except at this 
gra^e. His foot never crossed this threshold, until his uncle 



T UK WAYS O F T II K II O U Ji. i-'} 1 

came; and since, I believe he Las gone in but once. Mar}! 
Monson is not the being he worships." 

" I trust lie worships the Being we all worship, Mrs. Gott,'' 
struggling gently to turn the key, and succeeding. " It is not 
for us poor frail beings to talk of being worshipped." 

"Or of worshipping, as I tell Gott," said the sheriff's wife, 
permitting her companion to depart. 

Anna found Mary Monson and Sarah walking together in thu 
gallery, conversing earnestly. 

" It is singular that nothing reaches us from Michael Milling- 
ton !" exclaimed the last, as Anna interlocked arms with her, 
and joined the party. "It is now near eight-and-forty hours 
since my uncle sent him to town." 

"On my business?" demanded Mary Monson, quickly. 

" Certainly; on no other — though what it was that took him 
away so suddenly, I have not been told. I trust you will be 
able to overturn all that these Burtons have said, and to repair 
the mischief they have done?'' 

" Fear nothing for me. Miss Wilmeter," answered the pri- 
soner, with singular steadiness of manner — "I tell you, as I 
have often told your friend, I must be acquilled. Let justice 
take its course, say I, and the guilty be punished. I have a clue 
to the whole story, as I believe, and must make provision for to- 
morrow. Do you two, dear, warm-hearted friends as you are, 
now leave me ; and when you reach the inn, send Mr. Dunsconib 
hither, as soon as possible. Not that Timms ; but noble, honest, 
upright Mr. Dunscomb. Kiss me, each of you, and so good 
night. Think of me in your prayers. I am a great sinner, and 
have need of your prayers." 

Tho wishes of Mary Monson were obeyed, and the young la- 
dies left the gaol for the night. Ten minutes later Dunscomb 
reached the place, and was admitted. His conference with his 
client was long, intensely interesting, and it (piite unsettled tho 



432 THE WAYS O F T II ii^ II O U 11. 

notions he IkiJ now, for some time, entertained of her guilt. Sho 
did not communicate any thing concerning her past life, nor did 
she make any promises on that subject; but she did communi- 
cate facts of great importance, as connected with the result of her 
trial. Dunscomb left her, at a late hour, with views entirely 
changed, hopes revived, and his resolution stimulated. He made 
ample entries in his brief; nor did he lay his head on his pillow 
until it was very late. 

The little court-house bell rang as usual, next morning, and 
judge, jurors, witnesses, lawyers, and the curious in general, col- 
lected as before, without any ceremony, though in decent quiet. 
The case was now getting to be so serious, that all approached it 
as truly a matter of life and death; even the reporters submitting 
to an impulse of humanity, and viewing the whole affair less in 
a business point of view, than as one which might carry a singu- 
larly gifted woman into the other world. The first act of the 
day opened by putting Mrs. Burton on the stand, for her cross- 
examination. As every intelligent person present understood 
that on her testimony depended the main result, the fall of a pin 
mi<dit almost have been heard, so profound was the general wish 
to catch what was going on. The witness, however, appeared to 
be calm, while the advocate was pale and anxious. He had the 
air of one who had slept little the past night. He arranged his 
papers with studied care, made each movement deliberately, com 
pressed his lips, and seemed to be bringing his thoughts into 
such a state of order and distinctness that each might be resorted 
to as it was needful. In point of fact, Dunscomb foresaw that 
a human life dei)ondod very much on the result of this cross-ex 
/iminatiou, and like a conscientious man, he was disposed to d 
his whole duty. No wonder, then, that he paused to reflect, Wius 
deliberate in his acts, and concentrated in feeling. 

" We will first give our attention to this piece of gold, Mrs. 
Burton," the counsel for the prisoner mildly commenced, mo- 



T ri E WAYS OF THE HOUR. 433 

tioning to the coroner, who was in court, to show the witness the 
piece of money so often examined. " Are you quite certain that 
it is the very coin that you saw in the possession of Mrs. Good- 
win?'' 

" Absolutely certain, sir. As certain as I am of anything in 
the world." 

" Mrs. Burton, I wish you to remember that the life of the 
prisoner at the bar will, most probably, be affected by your testi- 
mony. Be kind enough, then, to be very guarded and close in 
your answers. Do you still say that this is the precise coin that 
you once saw in Mrs. Goodwin's stocking?" 

The witness seemed suddenly struck with the manner of the 
advocat). She trembled from head to foot. Still, Dunscomb 
spoke mildly, kindly even ; and the idea conveyed in the present, 
was but a repetition of that conveyed in the former question. 
Nevertheless, those secret agencies, by means of which thought 
meets thought, unknown to all but their possessors ; that set in 
motion, as it might be, all the covert currents of the mind, caus- 
ing them to flow towards similar streams in the mind of another, 
were now at work, and Dunscomb and the witness had a clue to 
eacWother's meaning that entirely escaped the observation of all 
around them. There is nothing novel in this state of secret in- 
telligence. It doubtless depends on a mutual consciousness, and 
a common knowledge of certain material facts, the latter beinw 
applied by the former, with promptitude and tact. Notwith- 
standing her sudden alann, and the change it brought over her 
entire manner, Mrs. Burton answered the question as before; 
what was more, she answered it truly. The piece of gold found 
in Mary Monson's purse, and now in possession of the coroner, 
wlio had kept it carefully, in order to identify it, had been in 
Dorotliy Goodwin's stocking. 

" Quite certain, sir. I know that to be the same piece of 
money that I saw, at diftcrcnt times, in Mrs. Goodwin's stockin/;/.' 

19 



4^4 T II E W AYS O F THE II U K. 

" Did you ever have that gold coin in your own hand, Mrs. 
liurton, previously to this trial ?'* 

This was a very natural and simple interrogatory ; one that 
might be, and probably was, anticipated ; yet it gave the witness 
uneasiness, more from the manner of Dunscomb, perhaps, than 
from anything in the nature of the inquiry itself The ansvv^er, 
however, was given promptly, and, as before, with perfect 
truth. 

" On several occasions, sir. I saw that notch, and talked with 
Mrs. Goodwin about it, more than once." 

" What was the substance of Mrs. G oodwin's remarks, in rela- 
tion to that notch?'' 

" She asked me, one time, if I thought it lessened the weight 
of the coin ; and if so, how much I thought it might take away 
from its value?" 

"What was your answer?" 

" I believe I said I did not think it could make any gi-eat dif- 
ference." 

" Did Mrs. Goodwin ever tell you how, or where, she got that 
piece of money?" 

" Yes, sir, she did. She told me it came from Mary Mon 
Bon." 

"In pay for board; or, for what purpose did it pass from one 
to the other?" 

This, too, was a very simple question, but the witness no longer 
answered promptly. The reader will remember that Mary Mon- 
son had said, before the coroner, that she had two of these coins, 
and that she had given one of them to the poor unfortunate de- 
ceased, and had left the other in her own purse. This answer 
iiad injured the cause of the accused, inasmuch as it was very 
easy to tell such a talc, while few in Biberry were disposed to 
believe that gold passed thus freely, and without any considera- 
tion, from hand to hand. Mrs. Burton remembered all thL^-, 



THE WATS OF THE HOUR. 4l}o 

ind, for a reason best known to herself, she shrunk a little from 
maki/ig the required reply. Still she did answer this question 
also, and answered it truly. 

" I underitood aunt Dolly to say that Mary IMonson made her 
a present of that piece of money/' 

Here Timms elevated his nose, and looked around him in a 
meaning manner, that appealed to the audience to know if his 
client were not a person of veracity. Sooth to say, this answer 
made a strong impression in favour of the accused, and Duns- 
comb saw with satisfaction that, in-so-much, he had materially 
gained ground. He was not a man to gain it, however, by dra- 
matic airs ; he merely paused for a few moments, in order to give 
full effect to this advantage. 

"Mrs. Goodwin, then, owned to you that she had the coin 
from Mary Monson, and that it was a present?" was the ncxi; 
ijuestion. 

"She did, sir." 

" Did she say anything about Mary Monson 's having another 
piece of money, like the one before you, and which was given by 
her to Dorothy Goodwin V 

A long pause succeeded. The witness raised a hand to her 
brow, and appealed to meditate. Her reputation for taciturnity 
and gravity of deportment was such, that most of those in court 
believed she was endeavouring to recollect the past, in order to 
say neither more nor less than the truth. In point of fiict, she 
was weighing well the effect of her words, for she was a person 
of extreme caution, and of great reputed probity of character. 
The reply came at length — 

"She did speak on the subject," she said, "and did state 
Bomething of the kind." 

"Can you recollect her words — if so, give them to the jury 
— if not her very words, their substance." 

" Aunt Dolly had a way of her own in talking, which makes 



i'Aij T II K \\ ^ V S O V V II K II O U R. 

it very dillicult to repeat her precise words ; but she said, in sub- 
Btance, that Mary Monson had two of these pieces of money, one 
of which was given to her." 

"Mary Monson, then, kept the other?" 

"So I understood it, sir/' 

" Have you any knowledge yourself, on this subject ? — If so, 
state it to the jury.'' 

Another pause, one even longer than before, and again the 
band was raised to the brow. The witness now spoke with ex- 
treme caution, seeming to feel her way among the facts, as a cat 
steals on its prey. 

"I believe I have — a little — some — I have seen Mary 
Monson's purse, and I believe I saw apiece of money in it which 
resembled this." 

"Are you not ceriuin of the fact?" 

" Perhaps I am.'"' 

Here Dunscomb's face was lighted with a smile ; he evidently 
was encouraged, 

" Were you present, Mrs. Burton, when Mary Monson's purse 
was examined, in presence of the inquest ?" 

"I was." 

"Did you then see its contents?" 

"I did" — after the longest pause of all. 

" Had you that purse in your hand, ma'am ?" 

The brow was once more shaded, and the recollection seem- 
ingly taxed. 

" I think I had. It was passed round among us, and I believe 
that I touched it, as well as others." 

" Are you not certain that you did so ?" 

" Yes, sir. Now, I reflect, I know that I did. The piece of 
money found in Mary Monson's purse, was passed fron\ one to 
(luother, and to me, among the rest." 

"Tl is was very wrong," observed his honoui*. 



THE AVAYS OF THE II O U U. l.W 

'^It was wrong, sir; but not half as wrong as the murders 
und arson/' coolly remarked Williams. 

" Go on, gentlemen — time is precious." 

" Now, IMrs. IJurton, I wish to ask you a very particular quos 
tion, and I beg that your answer may be distinct and guarded — 
did you ever have access to the piece of gold found, or said to bo 
found, in Mary IMonson's purse, except on the occasion of the 
inquest ? " 

The longest pause of all, and the deepest shading of the brow. 
yo long was the self-deliberation this time, as to excite a little 
remark among the spectators. Still, it was no more than prudent 
to be cautious, in a cause of so much importance. 

"I certainly have, sir," was the reply that came at last. "I 
saw it in Dorothy Goodwin's stocking, several times; had it in 
my hand, and examined it. This is the way I came to discover 
the notch. Aunt Dolly and I talked about that notch, as I 
have already told the court." 

" Quite true, ma'am, we remember that ; all your answers are 
carefully written out — " 

" I 'm sure nothing that I have said can be written out, which 
is not true, sir." 

" We are to suppose that. And now, ma'am, permit me to 
ask if you ever saw that piece of money at any other time than 
at those you have mentioned. lie particular in the answer." 

"I may," after a long pause. 

"Do you not know?" 

"I do not, sir." 

" Will you say, on your oath, that you cannot recollect any 
one occasion, other than those you have mentioned, on which you 
have seen and handled that piece of money ?" 

" When aunt Dolly showed it to me, before the coroner, and 
acre in court. I recollect no other time." 

" lict me put this question to you again, Mrs. Burton — recall- 



438 THE WAYS OF THE 110 UK. 

iug the solemuitj of the oath you have taken — have you, or 
have you not, seen that piece of money on any other oceasioQ 
than those you have just mentioned V 

" I do not remember ever to have seen it at any other time," 
answered the woman, firmly. 

Mary Monson gave a little start, and Dunscomb appeared dis- 
appointed. Timms bit his lip, and looked anxiously at the jury, 
while Williams once more cocked Ids nose, and looked around 
Lim in triumph. If the witness spoke the truth, she was now 
likely to adhere to it; if, on the other hand, there were really 
any ground for Dunscomb's question, the witness had passed the 
Kubicon, and would adhere to her falsehood even more tena- 
ciously than she would adhere to the truth. The remainder of 
this cross-examination was of very little importance. Nothing 
further was obtained from the witness that went to shake her 
testimony. 

Our limits will not permit a detailed account of all the evi- 
dence that was given in behalf of the prosecution. All that ap- 
peared before the inquest was now introduced, methodized and 
arranged by Williams; processes that rendered it much more 
respectable than it had originally appeared to be. At length it 
came to the turn of the defence to open. This was a task that 
Dunscomb took on himself, Timms, in his judgment, being un- 
equal to it. His opening was very effective, in the way of argu- 
ment, though necessarily not conclusive, the case not making in 
favour of his client. 

The public expected important revelations as to the past his- 
tory of the prisoner, and of this Timms had apprised Dunscomb. 
The latter, however, was not prepared to make them. Mtu-y 
Monson maintained all her reserve, and Millington did not re- 
turn. The cause was now so far advanced as to render it im- 
probable that any facts, of this nature, could be obtained in suffi- 
3ient season to be used, and the counsel saw the necessity of 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. * 4V}Sj 

giving a ucw turn to this particular point in the case. He con- 
Bequently complained that the prosecution had neglected to show 
anything in the past life of the accused to render it probable she 
had been guilty of the offences with which she was charged. 
" Mary Monson appears here/' he went on to say, " with a cha- 
racter as fair as that of any other female in the community. Thia 
is the presumption of law, and you will truly regard her, gentle- 
men, as one that is innocent until she is proved to be guilty." 
The inference drawn from the silence of the prosecution w^is not 
strictly logical, perhaps ; but Dunscomb managed at least to mys- 
tify the matter in such a way as to prepare the jury to hoar a 
defence that would be silent on this head, and to leave a doubt 
whether this silence were not solely the fault of the counsel for 
the prosecution. While he was commenting on this branch of 
the subj(3ct, AVilliams took notes furiously, and Timms foresaw 
that he meant to turn the tables on them, at the proper moment. 

Pretty much as a matter of course, Dunscomb was compelled 
to tell the court and jury that the defence relied principally on 
the insufficiency of the evidence of the other side. This was 
altogether circumstantial ; and the circumstances, as he hoped to 
be able to convince the jury, were of a nature that admitted of 
more than one construction. Whenever this was the case, it was 
the duty of the jury to give the aecused the full benefit of these 
doubts. The rest of the opening had the usual character of ap- 
peals to the sympathy and justice of the jury, very prudently 
and properly put. 

Dr. McBrain wa^ now placed upon the stand, when the custo 
mary questions were asked, to show that he was a witness entitled 
to the respect of the court. He was then further interrogated, 
as follows: — 

" Have you seen the two skeletons that are now in court, and 
?vhich are said to have been taken from the ruins of the house 
of the G Godwins r* 



14U THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

" I have. I saw them before the inquest ; and I have agaJD 
sxamined them here, in coui't." 

" What do you say, as to their sex V 

" I believe them both to be the skeletons of females." 

"Do you feel certain of this fact?" 

" Reasonably so, but not absolutely. No one can pronounce 
with perfect certainty in such a case ; more especially when tho 
remains are in the state in which these have been found. We 
are guided principally by the comparative size of the bones ; and, 
as these are aifected by the age of the subject, it is hazardous to 
be positive. I can only say that I think both of these skeletons 
belonged to female subjects; particularly the shortest." 

" Have you measured the skeletons ?" 

" I have, and find one rather more than an inch and a half 
shorter than the other. The longest measures quite five feet 
seven and a half, in the state in which it is ; while the shortest 
measures a trifle less than five feet six. If women, both were 
of unusual stature ; particularly the first. I think that the bones 
of both indicate that they belonged to females; and I should 
have thought the same had I known nothing of the reports which 
have reached my ears touching the persons whose remains these 
are said to be." 

" When you first formed your opinion of the sex of those to 
whom these remains belonged, had you heard that there was a 
German woman staying in the house of the Goodwins at tho 
time of the fire?" 

" I think not ; though I have taken so little heed of these 
rumours as to be uncertain when I first heard this circumstance. 
I do remember, however, that I was under the impression the 
remains were, beyond a doubt, those of Peter Goodwin and his 
wife, when I commenced the examination of them ; and I very 
distinctly recollect the surprise I felt when the conviction crossed 
my mind that both were the skeletons of women. From the 



THE ^VAYS OF THE HOUR. 441 

nat-ire of this feeling, I rather think I could not have heard any- 
thiiio; of the German female at that time." 

The 3ross-examination of Dr McBrain was very long and 
searching ; but it did not materially affect the substance of his 
testimony. On the contrary, it rather strengthened it ; since he 
had it in his power to explain himself more fully under the inter- 
rogatories of Williams, than he could do in an examination in 
chief. Still, he could go no farther than give his strong belief; 
declining to pronounce positively on the sex of either individual, 
in the state in which the remains were found. 

Although nothing positive was obtained from this testimony, 
the minds of the jurors were pointedly directed to the circum- 
stance of the sudden and unexplained disappearance of the Ger- 
man woman; thus making an opening for the admission of a 
serious doubt connected with the fate of that person. 

It was a sad thing to reflect that, beyond this testimony of 
McBrain, there was little other direct evidence to offer in behalf 
of the accused. It is true, the insufliciency of that which had 
been produced by the prosecution might avail her much ; and on 
this Dunscomb saw that his hopes of an acquittal must depend ; 
but he could not refrain from regretting, and that bitterly, that 
the unmoved resolution of his client not to let her past life be 
known, must so much weaken his case, were she innocent, and 
so much fortify that of the pjosecution, under the contrary sup- 
position. Another physician or two were examined to sustain 
McBrain ; but, after all, the condition of the remains wa.s such 
as to render any testimony questionable. One witness went so 
far as to sa}^, it is true, that he thought he could distinguish 
certain unerring signs of the sex in the length of the lower 
Kmbs, and in other similar proof; but even McBrain was forced 
to admit that such distinctions were very vague and unsatisfactory. 
His own opinion was formed more from the size of the bones, 
generally, than from any other proof. In general, there was 



442 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

little difficulty in speaking of the sex of the subject, when the 
Bkeletou was entire and well preserved, and particularly when 
the teeth furnished some clue to the age ; but, in this particular 
case, as has already been stated, there could be no such thing aa 
absolute certainty. 

It was with a heavy heart, and with many an anxious glance 
cast towards the door, in the hope of seeing Michael Millington 
enter, that Dunscorab admitted the prisoner had no further testi- 
mony to offer. He had spun out the little he did possess, in 
order to give it an appearance of importance which it did not 
actually bring with it, and to divert the minds of the jurors from 
the impression they had probably obtained, of the remains neces- 
sarily being those of Goodwin and his wife. 

The summing up on both sides was a grave and solemn scene. 
Here Williams was thrown out, the District Attorney choosing 
to perform his own duty on an occasion so serious. Dunscomb 
made a noble appeal to the justice of the court and jury j admo- 
mshing both of the danger of yielding too easily to circumstantial 
evidence. It was the best possible proof, he admitted, when the 
circumstances were sufficiently clear and sufficiently shown to be 
themselves beyond controversy. That Mary Monson dwelt with 
the Goodwins, was in the house at the time of the arson and 
murder, if such crimes were ever committed at all; that she 
escaped and all her property was saved, would of themselves 
amount to nothing. The testimony, indeed, on several of these 
heads, rather told in her favour than the reverse. The witnesses 
for the prosecution proved that she was in her room, beneath the 
roof, when the flames broke out, and was saved with difficulty. 
This was a most material fact, and Dunscomb turned it to good 
account. Would an incendiary be apt to place herself in a situa- 
tion in which her own life was in danger ; and this, too, under 
circumstances that rendered no such measure necessary ? 'Hien, 
ill the fiicts connected with Mary Monson's residence and habito 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 443 

bold ill her favour. Wliy sliould she remain so long at the cottiigej 
if robbery was her only purpose ? The idea of her belonging to 
a gang that had sent her to make discoveries and to execute its 
plans, was preposterous ; for what hindered any of the men of 
that gang from committing the crimes in the most direct manner, 
and with the least loss of time? No; if Mary Monson were 
guilty, she was undoubtedly guilty on her own account; and had 
been acting with the uncertain aim and hand of a woman. The 
jury must discard all notions of accomplices, and consider the 
testimony solely in connection with the acts of the accused. 
Accomplices, and those of the nature supposed, would have 
greatly simplified the whole of the wretched transaction. They 
would have rendered both the murders and arson unnecessary. 
The bold and strong do not commit these crimes, except in those 
eases in which resistance renders them necessary. Here was 
clearly no resistance, as was shown by the quiet positions in which 
the skeletons had been found. If a murder was directly com- 
mitted, it must have been by the blow on the heads ; and the 
jury was asked to consider whether a delicate female like Mary 
Monson had even the physical force necessary to strike such a 
blow. With what instrument was it done ? Nothing of the sort 
was found near the bodies; and no proof of any such blow was 
before the jury. One witness had said that the iron-work of a 
plough lay quite near the remains; and it had been shown that 
Peter Groodwin kept such articles in a loft over his bed-room. 
He would suggest the possibility of the fire's having commenced 
in that loft, through which the pipe of a cooking-stove led ; of 
its having consumed the beams of the floor ; letting down this 
plough and share upon the heads of the sleeping couple below 
stunning, if not killing them; thus leaving them unresisting 
-subjects to the action of the element. McBrain had been 
examined on this point, which we omitted to state in its place, to 
Drevent repetition. He, and the two other doctors brought for- 



f n Til K \V A V S () K T II K \l O V \l . 

w.ird lor tlu' drfViici', li;iJ tried lo place the ploughshare on the. 
nkulls; and wore of opinion that tho injuries might have bceu 
inflieled by that piece of iron. But IMary Monaon could not uao 
Hiieh ail instrument. This was beyond all dispute. If the plough- 
Bliare inflicted the blow — and the testimony on this point was at 
least entitled to respect — then was Mary Mcmson innocent of any 
murder connnitted by direct means. It is true, she was respon- 
sible for all her acts ; and if she set fire to tho building, she wjia 
probably guilty of murder as well as of arson. But would she 
have done this, and made no provision for her own escape? The 
evidence was clear that she was rescued by means of a ladder, 
and through a window; and that there were no other means of 
esc;ij)e." 

Dunscomb reasoned on these several points with great force 
and ingenuity. So clear were his statements, so logical his infer- 
enoes, and so candid his mode of arguing, that he had produced a 
gre:'.t. etlect ere he closed this branch of his subject. It is true, 
that one far more dllllcult remained to be met; to answer which 
lie now set about with fear and trembling. 

We :\]\[u\c to tlie piece of money alleged to have been found 
in IMary INFonson's purse. Punscomb had very little difliculty in 
disposing of the ilippant widow Pope; but the Burton family 
gave him more trouble. Nevertheless, it was his duty to endea- 
vour to get rid of them, or at least so far to weaken their testi- 
mony as to give his client the benefit of the doubt. There was, 
in truth, but one mode of doing this. It was to impress on the 
jury the probability that the coin had been changed in jvassing 
from hand to hand. It is true, it was not easy to suggest any 
plausible reason why such an act of treachery should have been 
committed; but it Avas a good legal point to show that this piece 
^.f money had not, at all times, been absolutely under the eye or 
within the control of the coroner. If there were a possibility of 
I change, the fact shmild and ought to tell in favour of his client 



T 1/ K W A V K () ir I II K FI O IJ K. 4 1 5 

Mfh. I*iijI()(i Ii;i(1 iri.-ulc ru] missions on iJiis point, wliirli cntifN-d 
the prisoner to press the f:H;l,s on liio niin<ls of tJio jui-ors; ;inrj 
her counsel did not fail ho to do, wilJi cloarncHS and ciior/^y 
Ahcr all, iliis was much ilio most difliciilt point of tlio case; and 
it would not admit of ;i, porfoctly Hal.isfactory solution. 

The conclusion of ])unHcomh's summing up was mardy, touch- 
ing, even eloquent, lie spoke of a lone and defenceless female, 
surrounded by strangers, being dragged to the bar on charges of 
such gravity; poiniefl to his client where she sat entlnallcd by 
his language, with all the signs of pfdished refinement on iier 
dress, person, and manners; delicate, feminine, and beautiful; 
and asked if any oru;, who had the soul ;i.nd feelings of a man, 
could })elieve that such ;i Ijeing had eoinmitlecl the erimes im- 
puted to Mary Monson. 

'J'lie appeal was powerful, and was dwelt on jusl long (;nough 
to give it full and fair effect. It left llie fjeneh, the bar, tlie jiiry- 
l>ox, the whohj audience in fact, in tears. 'The prisrni(;r alone 
kept an uninoisteiied eye; but it was in a face flushed with feuJ- 
irig. Her self-coniinand was alinont suDeniaLund. 



446 THE WAYS OF THE H O U E . 



CHAPTER XXVn. 

" I '11 brave her to her face : 
I'll give my anger its free course against her. 
Thou slialt sec, Phcenix, how I'll break her pride.'* 

The Distressed Mothr. 

The District Attorney was fully impressed with tbe importauco 
of tlie duty that had now devolved on him. Although we have 
daily proofs on all sides of us, of the truth of that remark of 
Bacon's, " that no man rises to eminence in the State without a 
mixture of great and mean qualities/' this favourite of the peo- 
ple had his good points as well as another. He was a humane 
man ; and, contrary to the expectations, and greatly to the disap- 
pointment of Williams, he now took on himself the office of 
gumming up. 

The public functionary commenced in a mild, quiet manner, 
manifesting by the key on which he pitched his voice a natural 
reluctance to his painful duty ; but he was steady and collected. 
He opened with a brief summary of the fiicts. A strange female, 
of high personal pretensions, had taken lodgings in an humble 
dwelling. That dwelling contained a considerable sum of money. 
Some counted it by thousands ; all by hundreds. In either case, 
it was a temptation to the covetous and ill-disposed. The lodgings 
were unsuited to the habits of the guest; but she endured them 
for several weeks. A fire occurred, and the house was consumed. 
The remains of the husband and wife were found, as the jury 
Baw them, with marks of violence on their skulls. A deadly 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 447 

t)]ow had been struck by some one. The bureau containing the 
rnonej was found locked, but the money itself was missing. One 
piece of that money was known, and it was traced to the purse 
of the female lodger. This stranger was arrested ; and, in hei 
mode of living in the gaol, in her expenditures of every sort, 
she exhibited the habits and profusion of one possessed of consi- 
derable sums. Doubtless many of the reports in circulation were 
false; exaggerations ever accompanied each statement of any 
unusual occurrence ; but enough was proved to show that Mary 
Monson had a considerable amount of money at command. 
Whence came these funds ? That which was lightly obtained 
went lightly. The jury were exhorted to reject every influence 
but that which was sustained by the evidence. All that had been 
here stated rested on uncontradicted, unresisted testimony. 

There was no desire to weaken the force of the defence. This 
defence had been ingeniously and powerfully presented ; and to 
what did it amount. The direct, unequivocal evidence of Mrs. 
Burton, as to her knowledge of the piece of money, and all that 
related to it, and this evidence sustained by so much that was 
known to others, the coroner included, was met by a covjecture 
This conjecture was accompanied by an insinuation that some 
might suppose reflected on the principal witness ; but it was only 
an insinuation. There were two legal modes of attacking; the 
credibility of a witness. One was by showing habitual menda- 
city ; the other by demonstrating from the evidence itself, that 
the testimony could not be true. Had either been done in th* 
present instance? The District Attorney thought not. One 
and this the most common course, had not even been attempted 
Insinuations, rather than just deductions, he was compelled to 
say, notwithstanding his high respect for the learned counsel 
opposed to him, had been the course adopted That counsel had 
contended that the circumstances were not sufiicient to justify a 
verdict of guilty. Of this, the jury were the soK judges. Tf 



448 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

they believed Mrs. Burton, sustained as she was by so muck othei 
testimony, they must admit that Dorothy Goodwin's money was 
found in Mary Monson's purse. This was the turning point of 
the case. All depended on the construction of this one fact, 
lie left it to the jury, to their good sense, to their con- 
sciences. 

On the part of the defence, great stress had been laid on the 
circumstance that. Mary Monson was herself rescued from the 
flames with some difficulty. But for assistance, she would most 
probably have perished. The District Attorney desired to deny 
nothing that could justly go to prove the prisoner's innocence. 
The fact was unquestionably as stated. But for assistance, Mary 
Monson might have perished. But assistance was not wanting ; 
for strangers were most opportunely at hand, and they did this 
piece of good service. They remained until all was over, and 
vanished. No one knew them ; whence they came, or whither 
they went. Important agents in saving a life, they had gone 
without their reward, and were not even named in the newspaper 
accounts of the occurrence. Reporters generally tell more than 
happens ; in this instance, they were mute. 

As for the danger of the prisoner, it might have happened in a 
variety of ways that affected neither her guilt nor her innocence. 
After committing the murders, she may have gone into her room 
and been unexpectedly enclosed by the flames; or the whole may 
have been previously planned, in order to give her the plea of 
this very dangerous situation, as a proof of innocence. Such 
immaterial circumstances were not to overshadow the very mate- 
rial facts on which the prosecution rested. 

Another important question was to be asked by the jury.. If 
riary Monson did not commit these crimes, who did ? It ha/j 
been suggested that the house might have taken fire by accident, 
and that the ploughshare was the real cause of the death of its* 
owners. If this were so, did the ploughshare remove the money ? 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 44i» 

— did the ploughsliare put the notched piece in Mary Monsou^s 
purse '{ 

Such is an outline of the manner in which the District Attor- 
ney reasoned on the facts. His summing up made a deep im- 
pression ; the moderation of the manner in which he pressed the 
guilt of the accused, telling strongly against her. Nothing was 
said of aristocracy, cr harpsy or manners, or of anything else that 
did not fairly belong to the subject. A great deal more was said, 
of course ; but we do not conceive it necessary to advert to it. 

The charge was exceedingly impartial. The judge made a full 
exposition of all the testimony, pointed out its legitimate bearing, 
and dissected its weak points. As for the opinion of McBrain 
and his associates, the court conceived it entitled to a gi'cat deal 
of consideration. Here were several highly respectable professional 
men testifying that, in their judgment, both the skeletons were 
those of females. The German woman was missing. What had 
become of her ? In any case, the disappearance of that woman 
was very important. She may have committed the crimes, and 
absconded; or one of the skeletons may have been hers. It was 
in evidence that Peter Groodwin and his wife did not live always 
in the most happy mood ; and he may have laid hands on the 
money, which was probably his in the eyes of the law, and left 
the place. He had not been seen since the fire. The jury must 
take all the facts into their consideration, and decide according 
to their consciences. 

This charge was deemed rather favourable to the accused than 
otherwise. The humanity of the judge was conspicuous through- 
out; and he leaned quite obviously to Dunscomb's manner of 
treating the danger of IMary Monson from the flames, and dwelt 
on the fact that the piece of money was not suflBciently watched 
to make out an absolute case of identity. When he had done, 
the impression was very general that the prisoner would be ac- 
quitted. 



4oO THE W AYS OP THE II O U K. 

As it was reasonably supposed that a c:isc of this importance 
would detain the jury a considerable time, the court permitted 
the prisoner to withdraw. She left the place, attended by her 
two friends; the latter in tears, while Mary herself was stiP 
Bcemingly unmoved. The thoughtful Mrs. Cott had prepared 
refreshments for her ; and, for the first time since her ti'ial com- 
menced, the fair prisoner ate heartily. 

" I shall owe my triumph, not to money, my de;u' girls," she 
fciaid, while at table, " not to friends, nor to a great array of coun 
sel ; but to truth. I did not commit these crimes ; and on tht 
testimony of the State alone, with scarcely any of my own, the 
juiy will have to say as much. No stain will rest on my charac^ 
ter, and I can meet my friends with the unclouded brow of inno- 
cence. This is a very precious moment to me ; I would not part 
with it for all the honours that riches and rank can bestow." 

" How strange that you, of all women, my dear mamma," said 
Anna, kissing her cheek, " should be accused of crimes so horri- 
ble to obtain a little money; for this poor Mrs. Goodwin could 
have had no great sum after all, and you arc so rich V 

" More is the pity that I have not made a better use of my 
money. You are to be envied, girls, in having the fortunes of 
gentlewomen, and in having no more. I do believe it is better 
for our sex barely to be independent in their respective stations, 
and not to be rendered rich. Man or woman, money is a danger- 
ous thing, when we come to consider it as a part of our natural 
existence ; for it tempts us to fancy that money's worth gives 
rights that nature and reason both deny. I believe I should 
have been much happier, were I much poorer than I am." 

"But those who are rich are not very likely to rob !" 

" Certainly not, in the sense that you mean, my dear. Send 
Marie Moulin on some errand, Anna ; I wish to tell you and 
Sai^h what I think of this fire, and of the deaths for whi'jli I 
am now on ti-ial." 



THE WAYS OF THE II OUR. 4 5 1 

Anna complied ; and the handsome prisoner, first looking cau- 
tiously around to make certain she was not overheard, proceeded 
with her opinion. 

" In the first place, I make no doubt Dr. McBrain is right, 
and that both the skeletons are those of women. The Gorman 
woman got to be very intimate with Mrs. Goodwin; and as the 
latter and her husband quarrelled daily, and fiercely, I think it 
probable that she took this woman into her bed, where they 
perished together. I should think the fire purely accidental, 
were it not for the missing stocking." 

^^ That is just what the District Attorney said," cried Anna, 
ninocently. " Who, then, can have set the house on fire ?" 

Mary Monson muttered to herself; and she smiled as if somr, 
j[ucer fancies crowded her brain ; but no one was the wiser 
for her ruminations. These she kept to herself, and con- 
tinued. 

" Yes, that missing stocking renders the arson probable. The 
question is, who did the deed; I, or Mrs. Burton?'' 

" Mrs. Burton !" exclaimed both the girls in a breath. " Why, 
her character is excellent — no one has ever suspected her ! You 
cannot suppose that she is the guilty person !" 

"It is she, or it is I; which, I will leave you to judge. I 
was aware that the notch was in the coin ; for I was about to 
give the other piece to Mrs. Goodwin, but preferred to keep the 
perfect specimen myself. The notched piece must have been in 
the stocking until after the fire ; and it was changed by some 
one while my purse wa'i under examination." 

"And you suppose thao Mrs. Burton did it?'' 

" I confess to a suspicion to that efibct. Who else could or 
'.'ould have done it? I have mentioned this distrust to Mr. 
Dunscomb, and he cross-examined in reference to this fact ; though 
nothing very satisfactory was extracted. After my acquittal, steps 
will 50 taken to push the inquiry further." 



452 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

Mary Monson continued discussing this subject lor quite an 
hour; her wondering companions putting questions. At the end 
of that time, Mr. Gott appeared to say that the jury had come 
into court ; and that it was his duty to take the prisoner there 
to meet them. 

Perhaps IMary Monson never looked more lovely than at that 
moment. She had dressed herself with great simplicity, but 
with exceeding care; excitement gave her the richest colour; 
hope, even delight, was glowing in her eyes ; and her whole form 
was expanding with the sentiment of triumph. There is no feel- 
ing more general than sympathy with success. After the judge's 
charge, few doubted of the result; and on every side, as she 
walked with a light firm step to her chair, the prisoner read kind- 
ness, sympathy, and exultation. After all that had been said, 
and all the prejudices that had been awakened, Mary Monson 
was about to be acquitted ! Even the reporters became a little 
humanized; had juster perceptions than common of the rights 
of their fellow-creatures ; and a more smiling, benignant assem- 
bly was never collected in that hall. In a few minutes, silence 
was obtained, and the jurors were called. Every man answered 
to his name, when the profound stillness of expectation pervaded 
the place. 

" Stand up, Mary Monson, and listen to the verdict. " said the 
clerk, not without a little tremor in his voice. " Gentlemen, 
what do you say — is the prisoner guilty or not guilty?" 

The foreman arose, stroked down a few scattering grey haira, 
then, in a voice barely audible, he pronounced the portentous 
word " guilty." Had a bomb suddenly exploded in the room, it 
could not have produced greater astonishment, and scarcely more 
consternation. Anna Updyke darted forward, and, as with a 
single bound, Mary Monson was folded in her arms. 

" No, no !" cried this warm-hearted girl, totally unconscious 
of the impropriety of her acts ; " she is not guilty. You do not 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 4:52 

kuow her. I do. She was my school mamma. She is a Ittdy, 
incapable of being guilty of such crimes. No, no, gentlemen, 
you will think better of this, and alter your verdict — perhaps it 
was a mistake, and you meant to say, ^ not guilty V " 

•^ Who is this young lady V asked the judge, in a tremulous 
voice — "a relative of the prisoner's ?" 

"No, sir," answered the excited girl, " no relative, but a very 
close friend. She was my ' school mamma' once, and I know 
ehe is not a person to rob, and murder, and set fire to houses. 
Her birth, education, character, all place her above it. You will 
think better of this, gentlemen, and change your verdict. Now, 
go at once and do it, or you may distress her V 

" Does any one know who this young lady is ?" demanded his 
honour, his voice growing more and more tremulous. 

"I am Anna Updyke — Dr. McBrain's daughter, now, and 
uncle Tom's niece," answered Anna, scarce knowing what she 
said. " But never mind me — it is Mary Monson, here, who has 
been tried, and who has so wrongfully been found guilty. She 
never committed these crimes, I tell you, sir — is incapable of 
committing them — had no motive for committing them ; and I 
beg you will put a stop to these proceedings, before they get so 
far as to make it difficult to recede. Just tell the jury to alter 
their verdict. No, no, Mary Monson is no murderess ! She 
would no more hurt the Groodwins, or touch a particle of their 
gold, than either of us all. You do not know her, sir. If you 
did, you would smile at this mistake of the jury, for it is all a 
oruel mistake. Now do, my dear sir, send them away, again, 
and tell them to be more reasonable." 

" The young lady had better be removed," interposed the 
judge, wiping his eyes. " Such scenes may be natural, and the 
30urt looks on them leniently; but time is precious, and my duty 
renders it necessary to interpose my authority to maintain the 
order of our proceedings. Let some of the ladies remove the. 



454 THE w A I s OF the hour. 

young lady ; she is too delicate for the touch of a constable — ■ 
but time is precious." 

The judge was not precisely conscious, himself, of what he 
was saying, though he knew the general drift of his remarks. 
The process of blowing his nose interrupted his speech, more 
than once, and Anna was removed by the assistance of Marie 
IMoulin, Sarah Wilmeter, and good Mrs. Gott ; the latter sobbing 
like a child, while the other two scarce realized the consequences 
of the momentous word that had just been pronounced. Duns- 
comb took care that the whole group should quit the building, 
and be removed to the tavern. 

If the bar, and the spectators in general, had been surprised 
at the calmness of exterior maintained by the prisoner, previously 
to the verdict, their wonder was sensibly increased by the manner 
which succeeded it. Mary Monson's beauty shone with increas- 
ing radiance as the justice of her country seemed to threaten her 
existence more and more ; and at the particular moment when 
she was left alone, by the withdrawal of her female companions, 
many present fancied that she had increased in stature. Cer- 
tainly, it was a rare sight to observe the illuminated countenance, 
the erect mien, and the offended air, with which one of the 
weaker sex, and one so youthful and charming, met a doom so 
terrible. Of the jury, she took no notice. Her eye was on the 
judge, who was endeavouring to muster sufficient fortitude to 
pronounce the final decision of the law. 

" Before the court pronounces sentence, Mr. Duuscomb," ob- 
served that functionary, " it will cheerfully hear anything you 
may have to offer in behalf of the prisoner, or it will hear the 
prisoner herself. It is better, on every account, that all my 
painful duties be discharged at once, in order that the prisoner 
may turn her attention to the only two sources of mercy that 
now remain open to her — the earthly and the heavenly. My 
duty, as you well know, cannot now be avoided; and the sooner 



T il E WAYS OF THE HOUR. 4-55 

it is performed, perhaps, the better for all concerned. It shall 
be my care to see that the condemned has time to make all her 
appeals, let them be to the authorities here, or to the more 
dreaded power above. 

" I am taken so much by surprise, your honour, at a verdict 
that, to say the least, is given on very doubtful testimony, that I 
hardly know what to urge. As the court, however, is disposed 
to indulgence, and there will be time to look at the law of the 
case, as well as to address our petitions and affidavits to the au- 
thority at Albany, I shall interpose no objection ; and, as your 
honour well remarl^, since the painful duty must be discharged, 
it were better, perhaps, that it were discharged now." 

" Prisoner at the bar," resumed the judge, " you have heard 
the finding of the jury, in your case. A verdict of ' guilty' has 
been rendered, and it has become my painful duty to pronounce 
the awful sentence of the law. If you have anything to say pre- 
viously to this, the last and most painful of all my duties, the 
court will give your words a kind and lenient hearing." 

In the midst of a stillness that seemed supernatural, the sweet, 
melodious voice of Mary Monson was heard, " first gentle, almost 
inaudible," but gathering strength as she proceeded, until it be- 
came clear, distinct, and silvery. There are few things that im- 
part a higher charm than the voice ; and the extraordinary pri- 
soner possessed an organ which, while it was feminine and sweet, 
had a depth and richness that at once denoted her power in song. 
On the present occasion, it was not even tremulous. 

"I believe I understand you, sir,'' Mary Monson commenced. 
" I have been tried and found guilty of having murdered Peter 
and Dorothy Goodwin, after having robbed them, and then of 
Betting fire to the house." 

" You have been tried for the murder of Peter Goodwin, onl^, 
the indictments for the second murder, and for the arson, not 
having yet been tried. The court has been obliged to separate 



45G THE WAYS OF THE II O U U. 

the cases, lest the law be defeated on mere technicalities This 
verdict renders further proceedings unnecessary, and the tv^ o re^ 
niaining indictments will probably never be traversed." 

" I believe I still understand you, sir ; and I thank you sin- 
cerely for the kind manner in which you have communicated 
these facts, as well as for the consideration and gentleness you 
have manifested throughout these proceedings. It has been very 
kind in you, sir; and whatever may come of this, God will re- 
member and reward you for it.^' 

" The court will hear you, Mary Monson, if you have anything 
to say, before sentence be passed." 

" Perhaps I might say and do much to affect your decision, 
sir,'' returned the prisoner, leaning her fair brow, for a moment, 
on her hand, " but there would be little satisfaction in it. It 
was my wish to be acquitted on the testimony of the State. I 
did hope that this jury would not have seen the proofs of guilt, 
in the evidence that has been brought against me ; and I confess 
there would be very little satisfaction to me in any other acquit- 
tal. As I understand the case, should I be acquitted as respects 
Peter Goodwin, I must still be tried as respects his wife ; and 
lastly, for setting fire to the house.'' 

" You are not acquitted of the murder of Peter Goodwin," 
mildly interposed the judge ; " the finding of the court has been 
just to the contrary." 

"I am aware of this, sir. America has many enemies. I 
have lived in foreign lands, and know this from near and long 
observation. There are those, and those, too, who are in power, 
that would gladly see the great example in prosperity, peace and 
order, that this country has hitherto given to the world, beaten 
down by our own vices, and the mistaken uses to which the peo- 
ple put the blessings of Divine Providence. I do not reverence 
the justice of my country, as I did : it is impossible that I should 
io so. I now sec plainly that its agents are not all of the cha^ 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR 457 

racter they should be; and that, so far from Justice's being 
blind through her impartiality alone, she is also blind through 
her ignorance Why am I found guilty of this act ? On what 
evidence — or even on what probability? The whole of the 
proof is connected with that piece of money. Mrs. Burton has 
testified that Mrs. Goodwin, hersftlf, admitted that I had given 
her that coin — just what I told the coroner, and which I then 
Baw was not believed, for it has been my misfortune to be tried 
by strangers. Will these gentlemen ask themselves why I have 
committed the crime of which they have found me guilty ? It 
could not be for money ; as of that I have, of my own, more than 
I want, more, perhaps, than it is good for me to be mistress of.'' 

" Why have not these facts been shown to the jury, at the 
proper time and in the proper manner, if true V demanded the 
judge, kindly. " They are material, and might have influenced 
the verdict." 

The jury was discharged, but not one of them all had left the 
box. One or two of them now arose, and looks of doubt and 
indecision began to flicker over their countenances. They had 
been influenced by one man, a friend and political confidant of 
Williams, who had led the undecided to his own opinions. We 
do not mean to say that this man was perjured, or that he was 
himself conscious of the extent of the wrong he was doing ; but 
his mind had been perverted by the serpent-like report, and he 
had tried the cause under the influence of rumours, which had 
no foundation in truth. The case was one of honest doubt, as 
no one will deny; but instead of giving the accused the benefit 
of this doubt, as by law and in reason he was bound to do, he had 
taken a bias altogether from outside influences, and that bias he 
communicated to others, until by the sheer force of numbers, the 
few who wavered were driven into a corner, and soon capitulated. 
Then, there was a morbid satisfaction in the minds of several of 
the jurors, in running counter to the charge of the judge. TIuf-- 

20 



i58 T II E WAY S OF THE HOUR. 

was a species of independence that is grateful to some men, and 
they are guided by their vanity, when they fancy they are only 
led by conscience. These malign influences were unknown tc 
themselves; for not one of the twelve was absolutely corrupt, but 
neither of them all was qualified by nature, or education, to be a 
judge, freed from the influence of the bench, in a case affecting 
a human life. 

Any one in the least observant of what is going on around 
him, must have had many opportunities of perceiving how 
strangely juries render their verdicts, and how much the last ap- 
pear to be opposed to the inferences of the looker-on, as well aa 
to the expressed opinions of the courts. The falling off" in the 
power of the judges over the minds of the jurors, we suppose to 
be derived from a combination of causes. The tendency of the 
times is to make men confident in their own judgments, and to 
defer less than formerly to knowledge and experience. Seeing 
this very general trait, the judges themselves defer to the ten- 
dency, manifest less confidence in their station and knowledge, 
and perhaps really feel it ; while the unceasing cry of the infalli- 
bility of the common mind, induces the vulgar, or average intel 
lect, to shrink from any collision with that which wears the sem 
blance, even though simulated, of the popular will. In this way 
is the institution of the jury gradually getting to be perverted, 
rendering that which is safe as an human tribunal can well be, 
when under the guidance of the court, as dangerous as ignorance, 
;>arty, self-will and obstinacy can well make it. 

" I do not know," resumed Mary Monson, " that one is yet 
obliged, in America, to lay open her account-books, and show 
her rent-roll, or her bonds and mortgages, in order to avoid the 
gallows. I have been told that crime must be brought home by 
unanswerable proof, in order to convict. Who can say that such 
proof has been adduced in my case ? It has not even been made 
Geir,ain that a man was killed, at all. Most respectable witnof'se? 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 45G 

ha^e testified that they believe those revolting remains of poor 
humanity, belonged once to women. Nor has it been shown 
that any one has been murdered. The fire may have been acci- 
dental, the deaths a simple consequence of the fire, and no ono 
guilty." 

" You forget, Mary Monson," interposed the judge, mildly 
"that the robbery, and the piece of money found in your purse, 
give a colour to the supposition of crime. The jury have doubt- 
less been influenced by these facts, and important facts they are. 
No one can deny this ; and I think you overlook that feature of 
your case. If, however, your counsel has any good reason to 
ofibr why sentence should not now be pronounced, the court will 
bear it. There is no impatience on the part of justice, which 
would much rather draw in than stretch forth its arm. Perhaps, 
Mary Monson, you might do well to leave to your counsel the 
objections you wish to urge, and let them be presented to us in 
a form that we can recognise." 

"I see no great use in deferring the sentence,'' Dunscomb 
remarked, quietly enough for the circumstances. " It must be 
pronounced ; and any question of law, should one occur to my 
mind, though I confess none does at present, can as well be 
raised after this ceremony as before." 

" I am disposed to wait, if a good reason can be urged for the 
delay. I will acknowledge that the case is one involved in a 
great deal of doubt and uncertainty, and am much inclined tD do 
all the law will sanction. Still, I leave you to decide on your 
own course.'' 

" In my judgment, may it please your honour, we shall have 
to go to the executive, and it were, perhaps, better to get all the 
most revolting parts of the case over, while the accused — -" 

"Convicted, Mr. Dunscomb — it is a distinction painful tc 
make, but one that cannot now be avoided." 

" I beg pardon of the court — convicted." 



460 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

" Yes/' said Mary Monson, solemnly, ^^ I am convicted, and 
of the revolning crime of murder. All my hopes of a triumphant 
acquittal are blasted ; and, whatever may be the termination of 
this extraordinary affair, a dark spot will always rest on my name. 
Sir, I am as innocent of this crime as the youngest child in your 
county. I may have been wilful, perverse, ill-judging, unwise, 
and have a hundred other failings ; but neither Peter nor Doro- 
'thy Goodwin did I ever harm. I had not been long in the house 
before I discovered that the old couple were not happy together. 
They quarrelled often, and bitterly. The wife was managing, 
dictatorial, and sordidly covetous, while he used every shilling 
he could obtain, for the purchase of liquors. His mind was af- 
fected by his debauches, and he drivelled. In this state,' he 
came to mc for sympathy and advice. There were passages in 
my own past life, short as it has been, which disposed me to feel 
for one who was not happy in the married state. It is no matter 
what my own experience has been; I had sympathy for that 
poor man. So far from wishing to do him harm, I desired to do 
him good. I advised him to quit the house, and live apart from 
his wife, for a time, at least ; and this he consented to do, if I 
would furnish him with the means. Those means I promised ; 
and, that he might not suffer, being of only feeble intellect, and 
in order to keep him from liquor, I had directed two of my agents 
to come to the house early in the morning of the very day that 
the fire happened, that they might convey Peter Goodwin to 
another residence, where he would be secret and safe, until his 
wife might repent of her treatment of him. It was fortunate for 
m.e that I had done this. Those two men, servants of my own, 
in the dress of countrymen, were the instruments of saving my 
life; without their aid, I should have perished in the flames. 
What they did, and how they did it, it would be premature n n\ 
to say. Alas ! alas ! I have not been acquitted as I de,?ircd to 
];e, and a dark shadow will for evei rest on my name V 



T fl E WAYS OF r II E II O U 11. 461 

For tlie first time, a doubt of tlie sanity of the prisoner, crossed 
the mind of the judge. It was not so much the incoherence of 
her language; as her eye, the flushed cheelc, and a certain air of 
stealthy cunning, that awakened this distrust. Nevertheless, 
Mary Monson's manner was sincere, her language chosen and 
perfectly proper, and her explanations not without their force 
There was something so strange, however, in a portion of her 
statements ; so irrcconcileable with a sound discretion, that, taken 
with the little which had come to light concerning this singular 
woman's past life, the doubt arose. 

"Perhaps it were better, Mr. District Attorney," the judge 
observed, " if we delay the sentence." 

" As your honour may think fit. The state is not ovcr-anxioua 
for life.'' 

"What say you, Mr. Dunscomb — shall there be delay, or 
shall I sentence?" 

" As the sentence miist come, the sooner it is over, the better. 
We have no ground on which to carry up the case, the jury 
being judges of the facts. Our principal hope must be in the 
discretion of the governor." 

" Mary Monson," continued the judge, evidently treating the 
affair as purely a matter of form, " you have been tried for felo- 
niously depriving Peter Goodwin of his life — " 

" I never did it," interrupted the prisoner, in a voice so low 
as to be melodious, yet so clear as to be audible as the sound of 
a clarion. " These men have been influenced by the rumoura 
they have heard, and were not fit to act as my judges. Men 
should have minds superior to mere reports, to sit in that box " 
" My duty is to pronounce the sentence of the law. After n 
fair trial, and, so far as it appears to us, by an impartial jury, 
you have been found guilty. For reasons that are of sufBcient 
weight to my mind, I shall not dwell on the character of the 
awful change you will have to undergo, should this decree be pu^ 



1 02 T II K W A r S O F T HE HOUR. 

in force, but confine myself simply to tlic duty of pronouncing 
the sentence of the law, which is this : that you be carried back 
to the gaol, and there be guarded, until Friday, the sixth day of 
September next, when between the hours of twelve and two, 
P. M., you be carried to the place of execution, and hanged by 
tlie neck, until you are dead — and God have mercy on your 
Boul !" 

A shudder passed through the audience, at hearing language 
like this applied to a person of Mary Monson's appearance, edu- 
cation and sex. This feeling might have manifested itself more 
strongly, had not Mrs. Horton attracted attention to herself, by 
forcing her way through the crowd, until she stood within the 
bar. Here the good woman, accustomed to bandy words with 
her guests, did not scruple to make her presence known to the 
court, by calling out — 

" They tell me, your honour, that Mary Monson has just been 
found guilty of the murder of Peter Goodwin ?" 

"It is so, my good woman — but that case is ended. Mr. 
Sheriif, remove the prisoner — time is precious — '' 

" Yes, your honour, and so is eternity. Mary Monson is no 
more guilty of taking the life of Peter Goodwin than I am guilty. 
I 've always said some great disgrace would befall our juries, one 
of these days, and now my prophecy will come true. Duke's it. 
disgraced. Constable, let that poor man come within the bar." 

The drivelling creature who entered the room of McBrair. 
tottered forward, when twenty voices cried aloud the name of 
** Peter Goodwin . " Every word that Mary Monson had stated 
vvjiH true ! 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 4<»:- 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 

" Now, Marcia, now call up to thy assistance. 
Thy wonted strength and constancy of mind ; 
Thou can'st not put it to a greater trial." 

Addison. 

Bench, bar, jury, witnesses and audience, were all astounded 
The trial had been carried on in the most perfect good faith ] 
and not a human being but the few who had felt the force of 
McBrain's testimony, doubted of the death of the individual who 
now appeared alive, if not well, in open court. The reader can 
better imagine than we can describe, the effects of a resurrection 
BO entirely unexpected. 

When the confusion naturally produced by such a scene had 
a little subsided; when all had actually seen, and many had 
actually felt, the supposed murdered man, as if to assure them- 
selves of his being really in the flesh, order was restored ; and 
the court and bar began to reflect on the course next to be pur- 
sued. 

"I suppose, Mr. District Attorney," observed his honour, 
"there is no mistake in the person of this individual; but it 
were better if we had an afl&davit or two. Will you walk this 
way, sir?'* 

A long, private conference, now took place between the public 
prosecutor and the judge. Each expressed his astonishment at 
the result, as well as some indignation at the deception which 
had been practised on the court. This indignation was a little 
•nollified by the impression, now common to both, that Mary 



40 1: T H K W AYS O P THE HOUR. 

Monson was a pcrsoi not exactly in her right mind. There was 
60 much deception practised among persons accused of crimes, 
however, and in connection with this natural infirmity, that public 
functionaries like themselves were necessarily very cautious in 
admitting the plea. The most offensive part of the whole affair 
was the discredit brought on the justice of Duke's ! It was not 
in nature for these individuals to be insensible to the sort of dis- 
grace the reappearance of Peter Goodwin entailed on the county 
and circuit ; and there was a very natural desire to wipe off the 
etain. The conference lasted until the affidavits to establish the 
facts connected with Goodwin's case were ready. 

" Had these affidavits been presented earlier," said his honour^ 
as soon as the papers were read, " sentence would not have been 
pronounced. The case is novel, and I shall want a little time to 
reflect on the course I am to take. The sentence must be gotten 
rid of by some means or other ; and it shall be my care to see it 
done. I hope, brother Dunscomb, the counsel for the accused 
have not been parties to this deception ?" 

" I am as much taken by surprise as your honour can possibl} 
be," returned the party addressed, with earnestness, " not having 
bad the most remote suspicion of the existence of the man said 
to have been nmrdcred ; else would all the late proceedings have 
been spared. As to the course to be taken next, I would respect- 
fully suggest that the Code be examined. It is an omnium 
gatherum ; and must contixin something to tell us how to undo 
all we have done." 

" It were better for all parties had they so been. There are still 
two indictments pending over Mary Monson ; one for the arson, 
and the other for the murder of Dorothy Goodwin. Mr. District 
Attorney feels the necessity of trying these cases, or one of them 
at least, in vindication of the justice of the State and county; 
and I am inclined to think that, under all the circumstances, thiy 
course should be taken. I trust we shall have no more surprises, 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 4G£ 

and that Dorothy Goodwin will bo brought forward at once, if 
Btill living — time is precious." 

"Dorothy Goodwin is dead," said Mary Monson, solemnly. 
" Poor woman ! she was called away suddenly, and in her sins. 
Liltle fear of her ever coming here to flout your justice." 

** It may be well to caution your client, Mr. Dunscomb, against 
hasty and indiscreet admissions. Let the accused be arraigned, 
and a jury be empannelled. Which case do you choose to move 
on, Mr. District Attorney?" 

Dunscomb saw that his honour was offended, and much in 
earnest. He was offended himself, and half disposed to throw 
up his brief; but he felt for the situation of a lovely and defence- 
less woman. Then his doubts touching his client's sanity began 
to take the character of certainty; and he saw how odious it 
would be to abandon one so aflSicted in her emergency. He 
hinted his suspicion to the court ; but was told that the fact, under 
all the circumstances of the case, was one properly for the jury. 
After reflection, the advocate determined not to desert his trust. 

We pass over the preliminary proceedings. A jury was em- 
pannelled with very little difficulty ; not a challenge having been 
made. It was composed, in part, of those who had been in the 
box on the late occasion ; and, in part, of new men. There was 
an air of earnestness and business about them all, that Timms did 
not like ; but it was too late to raise objections. To own the 
truth, the senior counsel cared much less than before for the 
result; feeling satisfied that his contemplated application at 
Albany would meet with consideration. It is true, Mary Monson 
was no anti-renter. She could not come forward with her demand 
for mercy with hands dyed in the blood of an officer of that public 
which lives under the deception of fancying it rules the land; 
murderers who added to their crimes the hateful and pestilent 
fraud of attempting to cloak robbery in the garb of righteous 
liberty; nor could she come sustained by numbers around the 



4(36 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

ballot-box, and bully the executive into acts which the rea^oii 
anl conscience of every honest man condemn j but Dunscomb 
believed that she might come with the plea of a being visited by 
the power of her Creator, in constituting her as she was, a woman 
not morally accountable for her acts. 

All the leading facts, as shown on the former trial, were shown 
on this. When the country practitioners were called on to give 
their opinions concerning the effect of the blow, they necessarily 
besame subject to the cross-examination of the counsel for the 
prisoner, who did not spare them. 

" Were you examined, sir, in the late trial of Mary Monson, 
for the murder of Peter Goodwin V demanded Dunscomb of the 
first of these modern Galens who was put on the stand. 

"I was, sir.'* 

" What did you say on that occasion" — looking at his notes 
of the other trial, "touching the sex of the persons to whom 
those skeletons were thought to have belonged ?" 

"I said I believed — not knew, but believed, they were the 
remains of Peter and Dorothy Goodwin.'^ 

"Did you not use stronger language than that?'* 

" Not that I remember — I may have done so ; but I do not 
remember it." 

"Did you not say you had 'no doubt' that those were the re- 
mains of Peter and Dorothy Goodwin?" 

" I may have said as much as that. Now you mention the 
words, I believe I did." 

"Do you think so now?" 

" Certainly not. I cannot think so, after what I have seen." 

"Do you know Peter Goodwin, personally?^' 

" Very well. I have practised many years in this neighbour^ 
hood." 

" Whom, then, do you say that this unfortunate man heiO; 
whom we see alive, though a driveller, really is ?" 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 467 

^' Peter Goodwin — he who was thought to have been murdered 
We are all liable to mistakes." 

" You have testified in chief that, in your judgment, the two 
persons, of whom we have the remains here in court, were stunned 
at least, if not absolutely killed, by the blow that you think frac- 
tured each of their skulls. Now, I would ask if you think the 
prisoner at the bar possesses the physical force necessary to enable 
her to strike such a blow?" 

" That would depend on the instrument she used. A human 
BkuU may be fractured easily enough, by a moderate blow struck 
by a heavy instrument." 

"What sort of instrument, for instance?'' 

" A sword — a bar of iron — or anything that has weight and 
force." 

"Do you believe those fractures were given by the same 
blow?" 

"I do. By one and the same blow." 

" Do you think Mary Monson possesses the strength necessary 
to cause those two fractures at a single blow ?" 

Witness had no opinion on the subject. 

" Are the fractures material ?" 

" Certainly — and must have required a heavy blow to pro- 
duce them," 

This was all that could be got from either of the witnesses on 
that material point. As respected McBrain, he was subsequently 
examined in reference to the same facts. Dunscomb made good 
use of this witness, who now commanded the respect of all pre- 
sent. In the first place, he was adroitly offered to the jury, as 
the professional man who had, from the first, given it as hia 
opinion that both the skeletons were those of females ; and this 
in the face of all the collected wisdom of Duke's county; an 
opinion that was now rendered so probable as almost to amount 
fjo certainty. He (Dunscomb) believed most firmly that the re* 



i(j8 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

mains were those of Dorothy Groodwin and the German woman 
who was missing. 

" Have you examined those skeletons, Dr. McBrain ?" Duns- 
comb asked. 

" I have, sir; and carefully, since the late trial." 

*' How do you think the persons to whom they belonged came 
to their deaths?" 

" I find fractures in the skulls of both. If they lie now ae 
they did when the remains were found, (a ftict that had been 
proved by several witnesses,) I am of o-pinion that a single blow 
Inflicted the injuries on both ; it may be, that blow was not su& 
cient to produce death ; but it must have produced a stupor, or 
insensibility, which would prevent the parties from seeking refuge 
against the efiects of the flames " 

" Is the learned witness brought here to sum up the cause ?" 
demanded Williams, with one of those demoniacal sneers of bis, 
by means of which he sometimes carried off a verdict. " I wish 
to know, that I may take notes of the course of his argument." 

McBrain drew back, shocked and offended. He was naturally 
difiident, as his friend used to admit, in everything but wives ; 
and as regarded them " he had the impudence of the devil. 
Ned would never give up the trade until he had married a dozen, 
if the law would see him out in it. He ought to have been a 
follower of the great Mahomet, who made it a point to take a 
new wife at almost every new moon !" The judge did not like 
this sneer of Williams ; and this so much the less, because, in 
common with all around him, he had imbibed a profound respect 
for the knowledge of the witness. It is true, he was very much 
afraid of the man, and dreaded his influence at the polls ; but lie 
really had too much conscience to submit to everything. A judge 
may yet have a conscience — if the Code will let him. 

" This is very irregular, ^Ir. Williams, not to say improper,'' 
his honour mildly remarked. " The witness has said no iiiO]r^ 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. AGO 

fchan lie has a right to say; and the court must see him protected 
Proceed with your testimony, sir." 

"I have little more to say, if it please the court," resumed 
McBrain, too much dashed to regain his self-possession in a mo- 
luent. As this was all Williams wanted, he permitted him to 
proceed in his own way ; and all the doctor had to say was soon 
told to the jury. The counsel for the prosecution manifested 
great tact in not cross-examining the witness at all. Iii' a subse- 
quent stage of the trial, Williams had the impudence to insinuate 
to the jury that they did not attach sufficient importance to his 
testimony, to subject him to this very customary ordeal. 

But the turning point of this trial, as it had been that of the 
case which preceded it, was the evidence connected with the piece 
of money. As the existence of the notch was now generally 
known, it was easy enough to recognise the coin that had been 
found in Mary Monson's purse ; thus depriving the accused of 
one of her simplest and best means of demonstrating the igno- 
rance of the witnesses. The notch, however, was Mrs. Burton's 
great mark, under favour of which her very material testimony 
was now given as it had been before. 

Dunscomb was on the point of commencing the cross-examina- 
tion, when the clear melodious voice of Mary Monson herself 
was heard for the first time since the commencement of the trial. 

"Is it permitted to me to question this witness?" demanded 
the prisoner. 

" Certainly," answered the judge. " It is the right of every 
cne who is arraigned by the country. Ask any question that 
you plea.se." 

This was a somewhat liberal decision as to the right of cross- 
examining; and the accused put on it a construction almost aa 
broad as the privilege. As for the witness, it was very apparent 
she had little taste for the scrutiny that she probably foresaw she 
was about to undergo; and her countenance, attitude, and an- 



iYO T 11 K W AYS O F T H K H O U R. 

Fwors, o;u'li ami all bo( rayed how niucli distaste slit had for tiie 
\Yht>lo }n\H'cduiv. As permission wjis obtained, luwevcr, the 
prisoner did not hesitato to proceed. 

" JMrs. Burton,'^ said IMury IMonsou, adopting, as well as she 
knew how, the manner of the gentlemen of the bar, " I wish you 
to toll the court and jury irhcii you first saw the notched piece 
of money '/" 

" When I fn-st saw it i' I saw it first, when aunt Polly firpt 
showed it to me," answered the witness. 

Most persons would have been dissiitisficd with this answer, 
and would probably have caused the question to be repeated in 
some other form; but Mary Monson seemed content, and went 
on putting her que^^tions, just as if she had obtained answers to 
meet her views. 

" Pid you examine it well?" 

"As well as I desired to. There Avas nothing to prevent it." 

"Pid you know it immediately, on seeing it in my purse?" 

"Certainly — as soon as I saw the notch." 

"Pid 31 rs. Cuxxlwin point out the notch to you, or did you 
point out the notch to her?" 

" She pointed it out to me ; she feared that the notch might 
lessen the value of the coin." 

" All this I have heard before ; but I now ask you, IMrs. ]>ur- 
tm\, in the name of that Being whose eye is everywhere, did you 
not yourself put that piece of money in my purse, when it wai^ 
ixissing from hand to hand, and t;ike out of it the piece without 
a notch? Answer me, as you have a regai'd for your soul?" 

Such a question was altogether out of the rules regulating the 
queries that may be put to witnesses, an answer in the allii-mative 
going directly to criminate the respondent ; but the earnest man- 
ner, solemn tones, and, we may add, illuminated countenance of 
^^a^y Monson, so far imposed on the woman, that she quite lost 
tdght of her rights, if she ever knew them. AVhat is much moiv 



r ir K WAYS OK T ir 10 ri o ri ii. 471 

remarkable, neitlicr of tlio counwcl for the prosecution inteipo.sed 
m objection. The Distriet Attorney was willing that justice 
Bhould have ita way ; and Williams began to think it might bo 
prudent to nianifcst less anxiety for a conviction than he had done 
in the ea^e in which the party murdered had been resuscitated. 
The judge was entranced by the prisoner's manner. 

" I believe I have as much regard for my soul as any of the 
neiglibours have for theirs," answered Mrs. Burton, sullenly. 

" Let us learn that in your reply — Did you, or did you not, 
change those pieces of gold ?" 

"Perhaps I might — It's hard to sfiy, when so niiicli was said 
and done." 

'MIowcainc; yod with the other piece, with which to make tbe 
exchange ? Answer, Sarah J>urton, as you fear God ?" 

The witness trembled like an aspen-leaf. 80 remarkabhi was 
the scene, that no one thought of interfering; but the judge, tho 
bar, and the jury, seemed equally willing to leave the two females 
to themselves, as the most efficient means of extorting the truth. 
Mary Monson's colour heightened; her mien and countenance 
grew, as it were, with the occasion ; while Sarah Burton's became 
paler and paler, as each question was put, and the reply pressed. 

" I can have money, I hope, as well as other folks," answered 
the witness. 

" That is no reply. How came you with the piece of gold 
tliat, is notched, that you could exchange it for the piece whieb 
was not notched, and which was the one really found in my purse */, 
Answer me that, Sarah Burton ; here, where v;e both stand in 
the presence of our great Creator?" 

"There's no need of your pressing a body so awfully — I 
don't believe it's law." 

"I repeat the question — or I will answer it for you. When 
^ou fired the house " 

The woman screamed, and raised her hands in natural horror. 



472 THE WAYS OF THE II OUR. 

'^ 1 never set the Iiouse ou fire/' she cried — "■ It took from tlio 
bt^ve-pipe in the garret, where it had taken twice before." 

" How can you know that, unless you saw it ? — How see it, 
unless present?" 

" I was not there, and did not see it ; but 1 know the ganct 
had caught twice before from that cook-stove-pipe. Aunt Boll) 
was very wrong to neglect it as she did." 

" And the blows ou the head — who struck those blows, Sanib 
Burton?" 

^' How can I tell? I wasn't there — no one but a fool could 
believe you have strength to do it." 

" IIow, then, was it done ? Speak — I see it in your mind ?" 

" I saw the ploughshare lying on the heads of the skeletons ; 
and I saw Moses Steen throw it off, in the confusion of first raking 
the embers. Moses will be likely to remember it, if sent for, and 
questioned." 

Here was a most important fact elicited under the impulse of 
self - justification ; and a corresponding expression of surprise, 
passed in a murmur, through the audience. The eye of Mary 
Monson kindled with triumph ; and she continued with renewed 
powers of command over the will and conscience of the witness. 

" This is well, Sarah Burton — it is right, and what you ought 
to say. You think that the fire was accidental, and that the frac- 
tured skulls came from the fall of the plough ?" 

" I do. I know that the plough stood in the garret, directly 
, over the bed, and the stove-pipe passed quite near it. There waf 
an elbow in that pipe, and the danger was at that elbow." 

^' This is well ; and the eye above looks on you with less dis- 
pleasure, Sarah Burton" — as this was said, the witness turned 
her looks timidly upwards, as if to assure herself of the fact — 
' Speak holy truth, and it will soon become benignant and for- 
giving. Now tell me how you came by the stocking and its 
3ontenta ?" 



T li E WAYS OF T If E H O U K. 473 

"The stocking!'' said the witness, starting, and turning white 
IS a sheet. " Who says I took the stocking V 

" I do. I know it by that secret intelligence which has been 
given me to discover truth. Speak, then, Sarah, and tell the- court 
and jury the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.'' 

" Nobody saw me take it ; and nobody can say I took it." 

" Therein you are mistaken. You were seen to take it. 1 
saw it, for one ; but there was another who saw it, with its mo- 
tive, whose eye is ever on us. Speak, then, Sarah, and keep 
nothing back." 

" I meant no harm, if I did take it. There was so many folks 
about, I was afraid that some stranger might lay hands on it. 
That's all." 

" You were seen to unlock the drawers, as you stood alone 
near the bureau, in the confusion and excitement of the finding 
of the skeletons. You did it stealthily, Sarah Burton." 

" I was afraid some one might snatch the stocking from me. 
I always meant to give it up, as soon as the law said to whom it 
belongs. Davis wants it, but I'm not sure it is his." 

" What key did you use ? Keep nothing back." 

" One of my own. My keys unlocked many of aunt Dolly's 
drawers. She knew it, and never found any fault with it. Why 
fihould she ? Her keys unlocked mine I" 

" Another word — where is that stocking, and where are it* 
contents?" 

" Both are safe in the third drawer of my own bureau, and 
here is the key," taking one from her bosom. " I put them 
there for security, as no one opens that drawer but myself." 

Timms took the key from the unresisting hand of the woman, 
and followed by Williams, Davis, and one or two more, he left 
the court-house. At that instant, Sarah Burton fiinted. In the 
confusion of removing her into another room, Mary Monson re- 
sumed her seat. 



1^4 r HE \V \ . S OF T 11 K II O l K^ . 

"Mr. District Attorney, it wui luuxUy bo vour iiv(outIui» to 
prosis this iudiotmout Jiuy further ?" observed the judge, wipiuj^ 
ais eyes, and uuioh delighted with the uuexpeeted teiurumtion 
of the atl'air. 

The fuuetionary addresstnl was ghid enough to be rid of his 
iinweleouie otHee, and at once siguitied his willingness to enter a 
nolle prosequiy by an application to the bench, in the case of th 
ai'son, and to submit to an aei][uittal in that now being travei-sod. 
AtVr a brief charge from the judgi\ the jury gtive a verdict of 
atH|uittal, without leaving the box ; and just as this was done 
Timms and his companions returned, bringing with them the 
much-talked-of stocking. 

It requinnl months completely io elucidate the whole atlair, 
but so much is alivady known, and this part of our subject beinj\ 
virtually disposed of, we may as well make a short summary of 
the facts, iis they were already in proof, or as they have sincii 
come io light. 

The tire was accidental, as has been recently ascertained by 
eiivumstances it is unnecess:vry to relate. Goodwin had left hit' 
wife, the night before the accident, and she had taken the Cicr 
man woman to sleep with her. As the g:\rret-tloor above this 
pair was consunuHl, the plough fell, its share inflicting the blow 
which stunned them, if it did not inflict even a greater injury. 
That part of the house was fu*st consumed, and the skeletons 
were found, as has been related, side by side. In the confusion 
of the scene, Sarah Burton had little difficulty in ojuming the 
drawer, and rtunoving the stocking. She fancied herself unseen ; 
but jMary jMousou observed the movement, though she had then 
Ui> idea what was abstnu'ted. The luifortunate delinquent mam- 
tiiins that her intention, at the time, was good ; or, that her sole 
object was to secure the gold ; but, is obligivl to confess that the 
possession of the treasure gradually excited \\cv cupidity, until 
ihhe began to hope that this hoard n\ight eventually become hei 



T UK W A Y H OF T Jl K II O U It. 1 7.' 

own. Tlie guilty soonest su«pcct guilt. As to " tho pure, all 
things arc pure/' so it is with the innocent, who arc the leant 
inclined t/j suspect otlicrs of wicked actions. Thus was it with 
Mrs. Burton. In the commission of a great wrong herself, she 
had little difficulty in supposing that Mary Monson was the sort 
of person that rumour made her out to be. She saw no great 
harm, then, in giving a shove to the descending culprit. "VVhen 
looking into the stocking, she had seen, and put in her own 
po»;ket, the notched piece, as a curiosity, there being nothing 
nxn-e unusual in the guilty thus incurring unnecessary risks, 
than there is in the moth's temerity in fluttering around the 
candle. When the purse of Mary Monson was examincf], as 
usually happens on such occasions, we had almost said as always 
happens, in ♦ho management of cases that are subsequently to 
^orm a part of the justice of the land, much less attention wap 
paid to the care of that purse than ought to have been bestowed 
on it. Profiting by the neglect, Sarah Burton exchanged the 
not<;hed coin for the perfect piece, unobserved, as she again fan- 
cied ; but once more the watchful eye of Mary Monson was on 
her. The first time the woman was observed by the last, it was 
accidentally; but suspicion once aroused, it was natural enough 
to keep a look-out on the suspected party. The act was seen, 
and at the moment that the accused thought happy, the circum- 
stance was brought to bear on the trial. Sarah Burton main- 
tains that, at first, her sole intention was to exchange the imper- 
fect for the perfect coin ; and that she was induced to swear to 
the piece subsequently produced, as that found on Mary Monson's 
person, as a literal fact, ignorant of what might be its conse- 
quences. Though the devil doubtless leads us on, step by step^ 
deeper and deeper, into crime and sin, it is probable that, in this 
particular, the guilty woman applied a flattering unction to her 
conscience, that the truth would have destroyed. 

Great was the wonder, and numberless were the paragrapl^fi 



47fi THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

that this unexpected issue of the "great Biberry murders'* pro 
duced. As respects the last, anything that will fill a column is 
a god-send, and the falsehood has even a value that is not to be 
found in the truth, as its contradiction will help along quite as 
much as the original statements. If the public could only be 
brought to see what a different thing publicity becomes in the 
hands of those who turn it to profit, from what it is thought to 
be, by those who fancy it is merely a mode of circulating facts, i 
great step towards a much-needed reformation would be taken, 
by confining the last within their natural limits. 

Mary Monson's name passed from one end of the Union to 
the other, and thousands heard and read of this extraordinary 
woman, who never had the smallest clue to her real character or 
subsequent history. How few reflected on the defects of the 
system that condemned her to the gallows on insufficient testi- 
mony; or, under another phase of prejudice, might have acquit- 
ted her when guilty ! The random decisions of the juries, usually 
well-meaning, but so rarely discriminating, or as intelligent as 
they ought to be, attract very little attention beyond the bar ; 
and even the members of that often strike a balance in error, 
with which they learn to be content ; gaining in one cause as 
much as they lose in another. 

There was a strong disposition in the people assembled at Bi- 
berry, on the occasion of the trial, to make a public spectacle of 
Mary Monson. The right to do this, with all things in heaven 
and earth, seems to belong to "republican simplicity," which ia 
beginning to rule the land with a rod of iron. Unfortunately 
for this feeling, the subject of momentary sympathy was not a 
person likely to allow such a license. She did not believe, be- 
cause she had endured one set of atrocious wrongs, that she was 
bound to submit to as many more as gaping vulgarity might see 
fit to inflict. She sought the protection of good Mrs. Gott and 
her gaol; some forms being necessary before the sentence of death 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 4V'3 

20uld be legally gotten rid of. In vain were the windows agaiD 
crowded^ with the virtuous wish of seeing how Mary Monson 
looked, now she was acquitted, just as they had been previously 
thronged in order to ascertain how she looked when there was a 
chance of her being condemned to the gallows. The most extra- 
ordinary part of the affair, was the circumstance that the harp 
became popular; the very sentiment, act, or thing that, in one 
condition of the common mind, is about to be ^ cut down and 
cast into the fire,' becoming in another, all that is noble, com- 
mendable, or desirable. The crowd about the windows of the 
gaol, for the first few hours after the acquittal, was dying to 
hear the prisoner sing and play, and would gladly have tolerated 
the harp and a ^ foreign tongue' to be thus gratified. 

But Mary Monson was safe from all intrusion, under the locks 
of the delighted Mrs. Gott. This kind-hearted person kissed 
her prisoner, over and over again, when she admitted her within 
the gallery, and then she went outside, and assured several of the 
more respectable persons in the crowd how thoroughly she had 
been persuaded, from the first, of the innocence of her friend. 
The circumstances of this important trial rendered Mrs. Gott a 
very distinguished person herself, in that crowd, and never was a 
woman happier than she while delivering her sentiments on the 
recent events. 

" It 's altogether the most foolish trial we have ever had in 
Duke's, though they tell me foolish trials are getting to be only 
too common," said the kind-hearted wife of the sherifi^, address- 
ing half-a-dozen of the more respectable of the crowd. " It gave 
me a big fright, I will own When Gott was elected sheriiF, 1 
did hope he would escape all executions but debt executions. 
The more he has of them^ the better. It 's bad enough to escort 
thieves to Sing-Sing; but the gallows is a poor trade for a decent 
man to meddle with. Then, to have the very first sentence, one 
against Mary Monson, who is as much above such a punishment 



478 T 11 E W A Y S O F T II E 11 O U R 

as virtue is above vice. When I heard those dreadful words, 1 
felt as if a cord was round my own neck. But I had faith to 
the last ; IMarj has always told nie that she should be acquitted, 
and here it has all come true, at last/^ 

"Do 3'ou know, Mrs. Gott,'^ said one of her friends, "^t i^ 
reported that this woman — or lady, I suppose one must now call 
her — has been in the habit of quitting the gaol whenever she 
saw fit." 

" Hu-s-h, neighbor Brookes ; there is no need of alarming 
the county ! I believe you are right ; though it was all done 
without my knowledge, or it never would have been permitted. 
It only shows the power of money. The locks are as good as 
any in the State ; yet Mary certainly did find means, unbeknown 
to me, to open them. It can't be called breaking gaol, since she 
always came back ! I had a good fright the first time I heard 
of it, but use reconciles us to all things. I nyver let Gott into 
the secret, though he 's responsible, as he calls it, for all his 
prisoners." 

" Well, when a matter turns out happily, it does no good to 
be harping on it always." 

Mrs. Gott assented, and in this case, as in a hundred others, 
the end was made to justify the means. But Mary Monson was 
felt to be an exception to all rules, and there was no longer any 
disposition to cavil at any of her proceedings. Her innocence 
had been established so very triumphantly, that every person 
re<^ardcd her vagaries and strange conduct with indulgence. 

At that very moment, when Mrs. Gott was haranguing hei 
neighbours at the door of the gaol, Dunscomb was closeted with 
Michael Millington at the Inn; the young man having returned 
at hot-speed only as the court adjourned. He had been success- 
ful, notwithstanding his original disappointment, and had ascei- 
tamed all about the hitherto mysterious prisoner of the Biberrj 
gaol. Miwy INIonson was, as Dunscomb suspected, Mildred Mil 



T H R WAY P OF T II E ll O U iU 4V& 

lington by birth — Mad. de Larocheforte by marriage- — and sbe 
was the grand-daughter of the very woman to whom he had been 
betrothed In youth. Her insanity was not distinctly recognised, 
perhaps could not have been legally established, though it was 
strongly suspected by many who knew her intimately, and was a 
source of great uneasiness with all who felt an interest in her 
welfare. Her marriage was unhappy, and it was supposed she 
had taken up her abode in the cottage of the Goodwins to avoid 
her husband. The command of money gave her a power to do 
very much as she pleased, and, though the breath of calumny 
had never yet blown its withering blast on her name, she erred 
in many things that are duties as grave as that of being chaste. 
The laws came in aid of her whims and caprices. There is no 
mode by which an errant wife can be made to perform her du- 
ties in boldly experimenting New York, though she can claim a 
support and protection from her husband. The ^ cup and saucer' 
law comes in aid of this power, and the men who cannot keep 
their wives in the chains of Hymen in virtue of the affections, 
may just as well submit, with a grace, to be the victims of an 
ill-judging and most treacherous regard for the rii^hta of what 
are called the weaker sex. 



too JMl K WAYS OF TlIK H O U F, 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

" Why wilt thou add to all tlic griefs I suffer, 
Imaginary ills, and fancied tortures ?" 

Cato. 

The scene must now be shifted to Rattletrap. Bibcriy was 
deserted. Even tlie rumours vritli which its streets had been so 
lately filled, were already forgotten. None have memories as 
frail as the gossip. Not only does this class of persons — and a 
numerous class it is, including nearly all whose minds arc not 
fitted to receive more elevated materials — not only, we say, does 
tliis class of persons overlook the contradictions and absurdities 
of the stories they repeat, but they forget the stories themselves 
almost as soon as heard. Such was now the case at Bibcrry 
Scarce an individual could be found in the place who would ac- 
knowledge that he or she had ever heard that Mar}^ Monson was 
connected with robbers, or who could recollect that he once fancied 
the accused guilty. 

We may as well say here, that nothing has ever been done 
with Sarah Burton. She is clearly guilty ; but the law, in these 
times of progress, disdains to pursue the guilty. Their crimes 
are known ; and of what use can it be to expose those whom 
every one can see are offenders ! No ; it is the innocent who 
have most reason to dread the law. They can be put to trouble, 
cost, vexation and loss, if they cannot be exactly condenmed. 
We sec how thousands regard the law in a recent movement in 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 481 

the legislature, by which suits have been ordered to try the titlew 
of most of the large landed proprietors, with the very honest and 
modest proposal annexed, that their cases shall be prejudged, and 
the landlords deprived of the means of defending themselves, by 
sequestering their rents ! Everybody says this is the freest coun- 
try on earth ; the only country that is truly free ; but we must 
be permitted to say, that such a law, like twenty more that have 
been passed in the same interest within the last ten years, savours 
a good deal of the character of a Ukase. 

Our characters, with the exception of McBrain and his bride, 
were now assembled at Rattletrap. Dunscomb had ascertained all 
it was necessary to know concerning Mildred, and had taken the 
steps necessary to protect her. Of her qualified insanity he did 
not entertain a doubt; though it was a madness so concealed 
by the blandishments of education and the graces of a refined 
woman, that few saw it, and fewer still wished to believe it true. 
On most subjects this unhappy lady was clear-minded and intelli- 
gent enough, more especially on that of money ; for, while her 
expenditures were generous, and her largesses most liberal, she 
manifested wonderful sagacity in taking care of her property. It 
was this circumstance that rendered it so difficult to take any 
steps to deprive her of its control ; though Dunscomb had seen 
enough, in the course of the recent trial, to satisfy him that such 
a measure ought to be resorted to in the interest of her own 
character. 

It was in cunning, and in all the low propensities connected 
with that miserable quality, that Mildred Millington, as she now 
insisted on calling herself, most betrayed her infirmity. Many 
instances of it have been incidentally related in the course of 
our narrative, however unpleasant such an exhibition has been. 
There is nothing more repugnant to the principles or tastes of 
the right thinking and right feeling, than the practices which 
cunning engenders. Timms, however, was a most willing agent 

21 



482 THE W AYS OF \ \1 S HOUR. 

in all the schemes of his elient; though some of her projects hiid 
puzzled him by their elabomte duplicity, as much as they biid 
astouuiled him by their boldness. These were the schemes that 
had their origin in obliquity of miud. Still, they were not with- 
out merit in the eyes of Timms, who was cunning without being 
mad. 

Before quitting Eiberry, Timms was liberally paid and dis- 
missed. Punseomb explained to him the situation of his haud- 
eonie elient, without adverting to the state of her mind ; when 
the attorney at once caught at the chances of a divorce. Among 
the other ''ways of the hour," that of dissolving the marriage 
tie has got to be a sort of fashionable mania. Neither time, nor 
duties, nor children, seem to interpose any material obstacle; 
and, if our own laws do not afford the required facilities, those 
of some of our more libeml neighbours do. Timms keeps this 
principle in his mind, and is at this moment ruminating on the 
means by which ho can liberate his late client from her present 
chains, and bind her anew in some of his own forging. It is 
scarcely necessary to add, that Mildred troubles herself very little 
in the premises, so far as this covert lover is concerned. 

The ridicule of Williams was, at first, the sorest portion of 
Timms's disappointment. Bachelors alike, and rivals for popuhxl 
favour, these two worthies had long been looking out for advan- 
tageous marriages. Each had the sagacity to see that his chances 
of making a more and more eligible connexion were increasing 
slowly, and that it was a great thing for a rising man to ascend 
without dragging after him a wife chosen from among those that 
prop the base of the great social ladder. It was nuts to one of 
these competitors for the smiles of the ladies to discover that his 
rival was in love with a married woman ; and this so much the 
more, because the prospects of Timms's succ( ss, arising frcm hia 
seeming intimacy with the tiiir occupant of the gaol, had given 
Williams a very serious frio-ht. Place two men in competitior, 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 488 

uo matter in what, and all their energies become concentrated ir. 
rivalry. Again and again, had these two individuals betrayed 
their mutual jealousy; and now that one of them had placed 
himself in a position so false, not to say ridiculous, the other did 
not fail to enjoy his disappointment to the top of his bent. It 
was in this manner that Saucy Williams took his revenge for the 
defeat in the tdal. 

Mrs. Gott was also at Rattletrap. Dunscomb retained much 
of his original tenderness for Mildred, the grandmother of his 
guest of that name, and he granted her descendant every indul- 
gence she could a.sk. Among other things, one of the requests 
of the liberated prisoner was to be permitted to manifest thia 
sense of her gratitude for the many acts of kindness received 
from the wife of the sheriff. Gott, accordingly, was left to take 
care of himself, while his nice little companion was transported 
to a scene that she found altogether novel, or a temporary resi- 
dence in a gentleman's dwelling. Sarah's housekeeping, Sarah's 
good nature, attentions, neatness, attire and attractions, would 
have been themes to monopolize all of the good little woman's 
admiration, had not Anna Updyke, then on a visit at Rattletrap, 
quite fairly come in for her full share. She might almost be 
said to be in love with both. 

It was just after breakfast that Mildred locked an arm in that 
of Anna, and led her young friend by one of the wooded paths 
that runs along the shores of the Hudson, terminating in a sum- 
mer-house, with a most glorious view. In this, there was no- 
thing remarkable ; the eye rarely resting on any of the ^ bits' 
that adorn the banks of that noble stream, without taking in 
beauties to enchant it. But to all these our two lovely young 
women were momentarily as insensible as they were to the fact 
that their own charming forms, floating among shrubbery as fra- 
grant as themselves, added in no slight degree to the beauty of 
the scene. In manner, Mildred was earnest, if not ardent, and 



484 THE WAYS OF TUB HOUR. 

a little excited; on the other hand, Anna was placid, though 
sensitive ; changing colour without ceasing, as her thoughts were 
drawn nearer and nearer to that theme which now included the 
great object of her existence. 

" Your uncle brought me letters from town last evening, Anna 
dear,'' commenced the liberated lady: "one of them is from 
Mons. de Larocheforte. Is that not strange?" 

" What is there so strange in a husband's writing to his wife V 
To me, it seems the most natural thing in the world." 

" It does ? — I am surprised to hear you say so — you, Anna, 
whom I regarded as so truly my friend. I have discarded Mons. 
de Larocheforte, and he ought to respect my pleasure." 

" It would have been better, my dear mamma, had you dis- 
carded him before marriage, instead of after." 

'' Ah — your dear mamma, indeed ! I was your school mam- 
ma, Anna, and well had it been for me had I been left to finish 
my education in my own country. Then, I should have escaped 
this most unfortunate marriage! Do not marry, Anna — take 
my advice, and never marry. Matrimony is unsuited to ladies." 

" How long have you been of this opinion, dear mamma ?" 
asked the young girl, smiling. 

" Just as long as I have been made to feel how it crushes a 
woman's independence, and how completely it gives her a master, 
and how very, very humiliating and depressing is the bondage it 
inflicts. Do you not feel the force of my reasons ?" 

*' I confess I do not,' ' answered Anna, in a subdued, yet clear 
and distinct voice. " I see nothing humiliating or depressing in 
a woman's submission to her husband. " It is the law of nature, 
und why should we wish to alter it? My mother has ever in- 
culcated such opinions, and you will excuse me if I say [ think 
the bible does, also." 

" The bible ! — Yes, that is a good book, though I am afraid 
it is very little read in France. I ought, perhaps, to say, ' read 



T HE W A Y S O F T II E II O U IC. 4bD 

very little by strangers resident in France/ The French women, 
themselves, are not one half as negligent of their duties, in this 
respect, as arc the strangers who go to reside among them. 
When the roots, that have grown to any size in their native soil, 
are violently transplanted to another, it is not often that the tree 
obtains its proper dimensions and grace. I wish I had never 
seen France, Anna, in which case I should never have been 
Mad. de Larocheforte — vicomtessey by the old law, and I am 
afraid it was that idle appellation that entrapped me. How much 
more truly respectable I should have been as Mrs. John Smith, 
or Mrs. John Brown, or Mrs. David Smith, the wife of a coun- 
tryman, if I must be a wife, at all I" 

" Choose at least some name of higher pretension,'^ said Anna, 
laughing. " Why not a Mrs. Van llensselacr, or a Mrs. Van 
Cortlandt, or a Mrs. Livingston, or a Mrs. Somebody else, of one 
of our good old families ?" 

" Families ! — Do you know, child, it is treason to talk of fami- 
lies in this age of anti-rentism. They tell me that the man who 
makes an estate, may enjoy it, should he happen to know how, 
and this, though he may have cheated all he ever dealt with, in 
order to become rich ; but, that he who inherits an estate, has no 
claim. It is his tenants who have the high moral claim to his 
father's property." 

" I know nothing of all this, and would rather talk of things 
I understand." 

" By which you mean wedlock, and its cares ! No, my dear, 
you little understand what matrimony is, or how much humilia- 
tion is required of us women to become wives, or you would 
never think of marrying.'' 

" I have nevnr told you that I do think of marrying — that is, 
not much." 

" There spoke your honest nature, which will not permit evec 
an unintended deception. This it was that so much attached rnc 



486 T Tl E 'WAYS OF THK HOUR. 

to yon as a cliiUl ; for, though I am not very ingenuous myself^ 
I ean aJuiire the quality in another." 

" This admission does uot exactly prove the truth of youi 
words, mamma !" said Anna, smiling. 

'' No matter — let us tuXk of matrimony. Has John AVilmetcr 
pixiposed to you, Anna?" 

This was a home question ; no wonder the young lady st^u'ted. 
After a short, musing pause, however, the native candour of 
Anna Updyke prev:uled, and she admitted that he had. 

** Thank you for this confidence ; but you must go further. 
Remember, I am your mamma. Is the gentleman accepted ?" 

A rosy blush, succeeded by a nmi of the head, was the answer. 

" I am sorry I was not consulted, before all this hapjx^ned : 
though I have managed my own matters so ill, as to have very 
few claims to your couHdence. You scarce know what you un- 
dertake, my child." 

" I undertake to become Jack "Wilraeter's wife," answered the 
betrothed, in a very low but a very firm voice ; " and I hope I 
shall make him a good one. IMost of all, do I pniy to be obe- 
dient and submissive." 

'' To no man that breathes, Anna ! — no, to no man breathing ! 
It is their business to submit to tis ; not we to them !" 

'' This is not my reading of the great rule of woman's conduct. 
In my view of our duties, it is the part of woman to be afiection- 
ate, mild, patient and sympathizing, — if necessary, forgiving. I 
firmly believe that, in the end, such a woman cannot fail to bo 
as happy as is permitted to us to be, here on earth." 

<' Forgiving !" repeated Mildred, her eyes flashing; "yes, tha 
is a word often used, yet how few truly practise its teachings 
Why should I forgive any one that has wronged me ? Our 
nature tells us to resent, to punish, if necessary, as you say — to 
revenge." 

A slight shudder passed through the fnmie of Anna, and 8hc 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 487 

unconsciously moved farther from her companion, though theii 
arms still continued locked. 

"Ihere must be a great difference between France and Ame- 
rica, if revenge is ever taught to a woman, as a part of her duty," 
returned the younger female, now speaking with an earnestness 
she had not before betrayed ; " here, we are told that Christianity 
forbids the very thought of it, and that to forgive is among the 
very first of oar duties. My great instructor in such things, has 
told me that one of the surest evidences of a hopeful state of the 
feelings, is the banishment of every thing like resentment, and a 
desire to be at peace with all around us — to have a perception 
that we love the race as beings of our own wants and hopes.'' 

" Is this the sort of love, then, with which you give your hand 
to young "Wilmeter?" 

Scarlet is not brighter than was the colour that now glowed 
in the cheeks of Anna, stole into her temples, and even diffused 
itself over her neck and chest. To herself it seemed as if her 
very hands blushed. Then the power of innocence came to sus- 
tain her, and she became calm and steady. 

" It is not the feeling with which I shall marry John," she 
said. " Nature has given us another sentiment, and I shall not 
endeavour to be superior to all of my sex and class. I love 
John Wilmeter, I own ; and I hope to make him happy." 

*^ To be a dutiful, obedient wife, for ever studying his tast-es 
and caprices !'* 

" I trust I shall not be for ever studying the indulgence of my 
own. I see nothing degrading to a woman, in her filling the 
place nature and Christianity have assigned to her, and in her 
doing her duty, as a wife." 

" These are not my feelings, receiving your terms as you wish 
'.hem to be understood. But several have told mo I ought 
never to have married ; I myself know that I should have been 
an American, and not a French wife.'^ 



Itf S rut: w .V v s o v v ii :o ii o v u. 

" I luivo ovor lionvil ()iat givator lalitudo is given to our sox, 
ill Fraiu'o, th;m in this ^'ouutr}•.** 

*'Tlvat is true in \\\vl ou\\. Nothing can oKivod tho reteuut 
of n Vroni'h t!;ii-l, or anvthiiii; that, is thvont oxoood tho ^Yant of 
it that is manitVstod bv many Aniorioans. On tho othor haiul, 
:i innvriod woman hoiv, has no privih^^os at all, luU ovon in 
sooiot y ; whiU^ in iM-anoo, iiiulor an air of pvat sooming pi\>- 
prioty, she (.U>os very mnoh as sho soos lit. It is a mistake, how- 
evor, to snpjH>so that faithful wivos, aiul Jovotod mothors, most 
esjHvially tho last, aiv not to bo found all over Vaii\>po — in 
l^VaiU'o, in particular." 

•' I am olad to hoar it." oriod Anna, with a ivally gratiliod 
air; "it i:;i\os mo ploasuro wlion 1 hoar of any of our sox bohav- 
ing as thoy should bohavo." 

" Shouhl bohavo ! I foar. Anna, a littlo oovort reproach is 
intended, in that remark. Our estimate o( the eouduet of our 
friends must depend on our notions o( our own duties. Now, 
hearken to my manner o( reasoning on this subjeet. In a phy- 
sieal sense, man is strong, woman is weak ; while, in a moral 
sense, woman is strong and man is weak. You admit my 
pivniises?" 

"The tirst part of them, eertainly," said Aima, laughing, 
" while I pretend to no knowledge o( the last." 

" You surely do not believe that John ^Viluleter is as pure, 
ingenuous, good, as you are youi-self ;" 

" 1 see no reason why ho should not be. I am tar from eor- 
tam .laek is not even better." 

•• It is useless to disensi^ sueh a subjeet witli you. The prinoi- 
pie ot' pride is wanting, without wliieh you can never enter into 
luy teelings." 

*' 1 am glad it is so. 1 finey John will be all the haj^pier for 
it. .Ml I my dear mamma, I never knew any g\HHl eonie of what 
you call this * prineiplo of pride.' \Ve :u'o told to bo huiublo- 



IKK \V A V H OF T If K HOHK. 4 89 

an'] not to l^c proud. Jt may bo all Ukj bottor for us icinalo,'^ 
Uiat ! ul<;rH aro given to uh horo, in the pcrnOUB of our huHbandH." 

*^ Anna [Jpdyko, do you marry John WJlrrjot(;r with the feel- 
ing that he In to rule 'f You overlook tlie nigns of the timcB, 
tho ways of the hour, eliild, if you do aught ho weak ! Look 
around you, and see bow everybody, almost everything, ih be- 
coming independent, our mx included. Fonnerly, uh I have 
hoard elderly persons say, if a woman suffered in her domewtio 
relations, she was compelled tf> suffer all. Tlie quarrel lant/id for 
a life. Now, no one thinks of being so unreanonably wreUjjed. 
No, the wronged wife, or even the offended wife — MoriBieur de 
Larochefortc snuffs abominably — abominably — yen, abominably 
— but no wife hi obliged, in tliese times of independent;'; and 
reason, to endure a snuffy husband " 

" No," broke in iJunscomb, appearing from an adjoining path, 
" she h;i;-: only to pack up her spoons and be off. The CJode can 
never catch her. If it could on one page, my life for it there i» 
a hole for lier to get out of its grasp on the next. Your s<;rvant, 
ladies; I liave been obligfi<l to overhear more of your conversa- 
tion than was intenderl for my ears, perhaps; these paths running 
so close to each other, and you being so animated — and now, I 
mean to take an old man's privilege, and speak my mind. In 
the first pl;u:e, I shall deal with the agreeable. Anna, my love, 
Jack is a lucky fellow — far luckier than he deserves U) be. You 
carry the right sentiment into wedlock. It is the right of the 
husband U) be the hea^l of his family; and the wife who resists 
his authority is neither prudent nor a Christian. lie may abuse 
it, it is true; but, even then", so long as criminality is escaped, it 
were better to submit. I approve of (^vary word you have uttered, 
dear, and thank you for it all in my nephew's name. And now, 
Mildred, as one who has a right to advise you, by his avowed 
Jove for your grandmother, and recent close connection with your- 
yjlf, let me tell you what T think of those principles that you 



490 T 11 K WAYS OF T II K II OUR. 

avow, aiid abio of the state of things that is so fust growing up 
ill this t'oimtrj . In the first place, he is no true friend of your 
BOX who teaches it this doctrine of independence. I should think 
— it is true, I .Hin only a bachelor, and have no experience to 
back me — but, I should think that a woman who truly loves 
her husband, would find a delight in her dependence " 

"Oh ! certainly V exclaimed Anna — biting her tongue at the 
next instant, and blushing scarlet at her own temerity. 

" I understand you, child, and approve again — but tlicre 
comes Jack, and I shall have to turn you over to him, that you 
may receive a good scoldifig from head-quarters, for this abject 
servitude fooling, that you have betrayed. Go — go — his arm 
is hold out already — and harkce, young folk, remember that a 
new maxim in morals has come in with the Code — ' l*riueiples 
depend on Circumstances.' That is the rule of conduct now-a- 
days — that, and anti-rentism, arid 'republican simplicity,' and 
the *cup-and- saucer law," and— and — yes — and the ever- 
blessed Code!" 

Punscomb was obliged to stop tl-r breath, which gave tho 
young couple an opportunity to walk away. As for Mildred, she 
stood collected, extremely lady-like in mien, but Avith a slight 
degree of hauteur expressed in her countenance. 

" And now, sir, that wo arc alone," she said, " permit me to 
inquire what 7>n/ j^ut of the lecture is to be. I ti'ust you will 
rxnnomber, however, that, while I am Mildred Millington by 
Dirth, the law Avhich you so much reverence and admire, makes 
me Madame do Larocheforte." 

" You mean to say that I have the honour of conversing with 
u married woman?" 

" Exactly so, Mr. Punseomb." 

" I comprehend you, ma'am, and shall respect your position. 
You are not about to become my niece, and I can claim no right 
to exceed the bounds of friendship " 



THE WAYB OF TIIK II (MJ R 491 

" Nay, my dear sir, I do not wish to Bay tliis. You iiavc 
Bvcry right to advise. To lue, you liavc been a steady and wcil 
judging friend; and this, in the most trying circumstances. lam 
ready to liear you, sir, in deference, if not in your beloved bu 
rnility." 

" That which I have to say refers solely to your own happi- 
ness, Mildred. Your return to America has, I fear, been most 
inopportune. Among other innovations that arc making on 
every side of us, even to the verge of the disvsolution of civilized 
society, comes the liberty of woman. Need I tell you, what will 
be the next step in this downward career?" 

" You needs must, Mr. Dunscomb — I do not comprehend you, 
—What will that step be ?" 

" Her licentiousness. No woman can throw off the most 
sacred of all her earthly duties, in this reckless manner, and 
hope to escape from the doom of her sex. After making a pro- 
per allowance for the increase of population, the increase in sepa- 
rated married people is getting to be out of all proportion. 
Scarce a month passes that one does not hear of some wife who 
has left her husband, secreted herself with a child perhaps, as 
you did, in some farm-house, passing by a difFcrcnt name, and 
struggling for her rights, as she imagines. Trust me, Mildred, 
all this is as much opposed to nature as it is to prescribed duties. 
That young woman spoke merely what an inward impulse, that 
is incorporated with her very being, prompted her to utter. A 
most excellent mother — oh ! what a blessing is that to one of 
your sex — how necessary, how heavenly, how holy ! — an excel- 
lent mother has left her iri ignorance of no one duty, and he 
character has been formed in what I shall term harmony with 
her sex. I must ?je plain, Mildred — ^you have not enjoj'cd this 
advantage. Deprived of your parent young, known to be rich, 
and transplanted to another soil, your education has necessarily 
!>een entrusted to hirelings, flatterers, or persons indifferent tc 



1 92 T n K AV A Y S OF T 11 K HOUR. 

your ival ^voll-boino- ; (lioso who have eousulted iiu«t (lie rcput^i,' 
tu>n of tholr instriictiou, ami have paid the most attoiitiou to 
those arts ^Yhil'h soonest strike the cje, and most readily attract 
admiration. In this, their success has been complete." 

" AVhile you think it has not been so much so, sir, in more 
nmterial things ?" said the hidy, haughtily. 

" Let me he sincere. It is due to my relation to you — to ycur 
grandmother — to tlie past — to the present time. I know the 
blood that runs in your veins, Mildred. You are self-willed by 
descent, rich by inheritance, independent by the folly of our 
legislators. Accident has brought you honie, at the very moment 
when our ill-considered laws are unhinging society in many of its 
most sacred interests; and, consulting only an innate propensity, 
you have ventured to separate from your husband, to conceal 
yourself in a cottage, a measure, I dare say, that comported well 
with your love of the romantic " 

♦' Not so — I was oppressed, annoyed, unhappy at home, and 
sought refuge in that cottage. Mons. de Larocheforte has such 
a passion for snuff! — lie uses it night a,nd day.'' 

*' Then followed the stvious consequences which involved you 
m so many fearful dangers " 

" True," interrupted the lady, laying her small, gloved hand 
hastily on his arm — "very true, dear Mr. Dunscomb; but how 
cleverly I contrived to escape them all ! — how well I managed 
your Mr. Timms, good Mrs. Gott, the puffy, pompous sheriff, 
that wily Williams too, whose palm felt the influence of my gold 
— oh ! the excitenumt of the last two months has been a gift of 
paradise to me, and, for the first time since my marriage, have I 
known what true happiness was!" 

Pimscomb turned, astonished, to his companion, and stared 
her in the face. Never was the countenance more lovely to the 
cursory glance, the eye brighter, the cheek with a richer glow 
on it, or the whole air, mien and attitude more replete with 



TME \V A y 8 OK T H K JfOCK. ]'.)'] 

^romarily loveliucss, and womanly graces; ]ml the obscrvarit aye 
of the lawyer penetrated beyond all these, and detected the un- 
happy spirit which had gained possession of a tenement so 
lovely. The expression of the countenance denoted the ver) 
triumph of cunning. Wc pretend not to a knowleflge of the 
arcana of nature, to be able to detect the manner in wiiich tlie 
moving principles prompt to good or evi), but we must ]-eject all 
sacred history, and no Bmall portion of profane, not to believe 
that agencies exist that are not visible to our ordinary senses; 
and that our boasted reason, when abandoned to its own support, 
becomes the victim of those that arc malign. We care not by 
what names these iigents are called, imps, demons, evil spirits, 
or evil passions; but this we do know, lot him beware who sub- 
mits to their control. Jieiter, far better, were it that such an 
one had never been born ! 

Three days later Mildred Millington was in a state that left 
no doubt of her infirmity. The lucid intervals were long, how- 
ever, and at such times her mind seemed clear enough on all 
subjects but one. Divorce was her "ruling passion," and, in 
order to effect her purpose, all the extraordinary ingenuity of a 
most fertile mind was put in requisition. Although means were 
promptly, but cautiously, taken tr) sec that she did not squander 
her large pecuniary resources, Dunscomb early saw that they 
were uncalled for. Faw persons were better qualified to look 
after their money than was this unfortunate lady, in the midst 
of the dire visitation that intellectually reduced her belov/ the 
level of most around her. On this head her sagacity wa.<^ of 
proof; though her hand was not closed in the gripe of a miser. 
Accustomed, from childhood, to a liberal expenditure, she was 
willing still to use the means tliat an inscrutable Providence had 
so liberally placed in her way, her largesses and her charities 
.continuing the same as ever. Down to the present moment the 
fund-holder, the owner of town property, tlie mortgagee, and the 



1U I T II K W A V S () l'- T II K II O H It. 

Ir.'uiiT Is nllowcd loonjoy liis own, >Yilli(Hil. ;m_v tliivoi inl(U'fVi\'iicc 
iti* tlio tliMn:ii!;oi;uo wllli liis rights; but how imu'li lon<2;or tliiti 
rxc'oiilion is io lasl, is known only to Iho .IJoinj^ who dirofts tho 
doslinios of nations; or, at U\ist, not to any who arc now" on 
rarlh, suriH>nn(lo(l oiiually by tho iniinnitics and ignoraiu'O of tho 
]>ivsont stiito. 

l?ut IMiUhvd was, and is yet, jvnnittod to oxoreiso her riglify 
ovor hiM" own proporty, tliongh care is had to soo that no undue 
iidv;uit:w:;c is takiMi oi' hor sox, years, and ioiioraiu'o. l)eyoud 
this hor control was not disputed, and she was sulVorod io njana«!;o 
hor t>wn alVairs. She sot alunit tho matter of a divorce with the 
whole iMieruy oi' her nature, and the euuning o( her malady. 
Tinuus was a<;ain summoned to her serviee, unknown to Duns- 
comb, who would never have winked at the nu^isures that wore 
tiilvon, though so nuuh in aeeordanee with " the ways of tho 
hour.'' 

J^'ovided with pro]ier eredentials, this managing agent sought 
u!\ interview with IMons. de Laroeheforte, a worn-out debauehec 
of some rank, who, sooth to say, had faults oven graver than that 
of taking snutV. Notwithstanding the great personal attraetions 
of Mildreil, the nu"»tive for marrying her had been money: as is 
usually the ease in a very great ]n-oportiou oi' the eonueetions o( 
the old wiu'ld, among ]HM"sons of eonditiou. Love is to sueeeed, 
i\ud not to ]>reeede, matrimony. Mildred had been taught that 
lesson, and grimmisly had she been disappointed. Tho snufV 
gt>t into her eves. ISlons. de Laroeheforte — IMons. le Yieomtf 
as he had been, and was still determined io be, and in all probt.- 
bility will be, in spite of all the French " republican simplicity " 
that was ever siunmoned to a nation's rescue — ^lons. le Vicoujtc 
was directlv approached In 'rinnns, and a pn^posal made that he 
shinild ]nit himself in a condition to be divorced, for a stipulated 
pritv. Notwithstanding tho opinion of the learned Attornc}'- 
Genenil cf this great state, of the European aristocracy, and 



T UK W A V K OK 'J II K II <) IJ R. lUT) 

Xvho in HO every way ({unlilicfl to p.ovo Hiicli '.m o|>irii()ri, ex ojjich) 
as it might Ixi, Moris, do Larocbcforto dcclinciJ Icndiri;.'; liiiiis«;ir 
to so vile a propoHition, Kronclirnan and riobh; as lio was. Nf>j 
ilid tlio liusband IkiUcvo fliat ilif; disorodiialih; yiroposal oauio from 
lii.s wife. Ifo cr)rnp(;Ili;d 'i'lrrirnH to a<Jrnit as inucli, liodcr a 
HKinacc of losing liis caHC. That worthy was puz/Jod at tlii.s m- 
gult, for h(3 had inado the proposal on his " own hook/' as he 
afterwards explained the matter to Williams, in the fullest eon- 
lidenco of " republican simplicity/' and was astx)niHhed at meeting 
with tho Helf-respeet of a gentleman, if with no very elevated 
pririeif»les in a nobleman I It was accordingly necessary to have 
recourse to some other mode (>{' proceeding. 

Ijuckily for the views of Timms and his fair client, one can 
Hcareely gf) amiss in this country, whe-n a divorce is desired. 
Although a few of the older states remain reasonably inflexibla 
on this subj(;et, in some respects unreasonably so, indeed, they 
are generally surrounded by communities that are more indulgent. 
]{y means of some hocus jwcus of the law, that we pretend not 
if) explain, th(j n;imes of Gabriel Jules Vincent Jean JJaptiste do 
LaroeheforUi ads. Mildred do Larocheforte, were just beginning 
to steal on the dawn of tho newspapers, in a case that, ere long, 
might blaze in the meridian of gossip. 

Dunscomb frowned, and reproached, but it was too hiU^ to i(;eede. 
He has told Mildred, and he has told Timms, that nuptial huola 
iu'd in one community, cannot be so readily unloosed in another, 
us many imagine; and that th(;re must, at least, be good faith — 
the animus reverlendl — in the change of residence that usually 
prec(;des the application. Jiut money is very powerful, and 
umooths a thousand difficulties. No one could predict the termi- 
nation ; and, as the vicomte, though only to be <'i.j>proached in a 
more delicate way than that adopted by Timms, was as tired of tlic 
connection as his wife, and was very anxious to obtain a larger 
Bhar(! of the fortune than the "cup and saucer" law v/ili glvt 



49G 



HE WAYS OF T HE HO U II . 



him, it was by no means improbable that the end of the affair would 
be a quasi divorce, that would at least enable each party to take his 
or her own course, without fear of molestation from the other. 

In the mean time, Millington was married very shortly after 
the trial. The engagement had not been long, but the parties 
had known each other intimately for years. The bridegroom, in 
one sense, was the head of his family, though b}' no means pos- 
sessed of its largest fortune. In this character, it devolved on 
him to care for the interests of his fair relative. Although as 
much opposed as Dunscomb to the course she was taking, he did 
not shrink from his duties as a relative ; and it is understood 
that his house is Mildred's home when in town. Rattletrap 
opened its hospitable doors to the unfortunate woman, whenever 
she chose to visit the place ; and Timbully has also claims on 
her time and presence. 

DuDscomb announced his intention to retire from practice at 
the end of a twelvemonth, the morning that IMichael and Sarah 
were married. In the intervening time, John Wilmeter and his 
new nephew were received as partners, and the worthy bachelor 
is now sedulously but silently transferring as respectable and 
profitable a list of clients, as any man in the courts can claim. 
His own advice is promised, at all times, to his old friends ; and, 
as not a soul has objected, and the young men bid fair, there is 
every reason to hope that useful and profitable labour will keep 
both out of mischie£ 




THE WAYS or THE HOUR. 4'J'3 



CHAPTER XXX. 

"Some curate has penn'd this invective, 
And you have studied it." 

Massingkr, 

The day set apart for the nuptials of John Wilmeter anJ 
Anna Updyke finally arrived. The ceremony was to take placo 
in a little church that had stood, time out of mind, in the 
immediate neighbourhood of Timbully. This church was colo- 
nial in its origin, and, while so much around it has undergone 
vital changes, there stands that little temple, reared in honour 
of God, in its simplicity, unpretending yet solid and durable 
architecture, resembling, in all these particulars, the faith it was 
erected to sustain. Among the other ways of the hour that are 
worthy of our notice, the church itself has sustained many rude 
shocks of late — shocks from within as well as from without. 
The Father of Lies has been roving through its flocks with 
renewed malice, damaging the shepherds, perhaps, quite as much 
as the sheep, and doing things hitherto unheard of in the brief 
annals of American Ecclesiastical History. Although we deeply 
regret this state of things, we feel no alarm. The hand which 
first reared this moral fabric will be certain to protect it as far as 
that protection shall be for its good. It has already effected a 
great reform. The trumpet is no longer blown in Zion in our 
own honour; to boast of the effects of a particular discipline; to 
announce the consequences of order, and of the orders ; or, in 
short, to proclaim a superiority that belongs only to the Head 
of all the churches, let them be farther from, or nearer to, what 



WS T n ^ WAYS OF THE II O U K. 

are considered distinctive principles. Wliat the church is no\^' 
enduring the country itself most sadly wants, — a lesson in 
humility ; a distrust of self, a greater dependence on that wisdom 
which comeS; not from the voices of the people, not from th»5 
ballot-boxes, not from the halls of senates, from heroes, g^d- 
likes, or stereotyped opinions, but from above, the throne of the 
Most High. 

In one of those little temples reared by our fathers in the 
days of the monarchy, when, in truth, greater republican sim- 
plicity really reigned among us, in a thousand things, than reigns 
to-day, the bridal party from Timbully was assembled at an early 
hour of the morning. The company was not large, though it 
necessarily included most of the nearest relatives of the bride and 
groom. Dunscomb was there, as were Millington and his wife j 
Dr. and Mrs. McBrain, of course, and two or three other rela- 
tions on the side of the bride's father, besides Mildred. It was 
to be a private wedding, a thing that is fast getting to be for- 
gotten. Extravagance and parade have taken such deep root 
aaiong us that young people scarce consider themselves legally 
united unless there are six bride's maids, one, in particular, to 
*'pull off the glove;" as many attendants of the other sex, and 
some ihice or four hundred friends in the evening, to bow and 
curtsy before the young couple, utter a few words of nonsense, 
and go their way to bow and curtsy somewhere else. 

There wau nothing of this at Timbully, on that wedding-day. 
Dunscomb and his nephew drove over from Rattletrap, early in 
Ihe morning, even while the dew was glittering on the meadows, 
nnd Millingtou and his wife met them at a cross-road, less than 
a mile from McBrain's country-house. The place of rendezvous 
was at the church itself, and thither the several vehicles directed 
rheir way. Dunscomb was just in time to hand Mildred from 
her very complete travelling-carriage, of which the horses were 
in a foam, having been driven hard all the way from town. 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 49G 

Last of all, appeared Stephen Hoof, driving the very respectable- 
looking Rockaway of Mrs. McBrain — we were on the point of 
writing his " master," but there are no longer any ' masters ' in 
New York. Stephen, himself, who had not a spark of pride, 
except in his horses, and who was really much attached to the 
person he served, always spoke of the doctor as his "boss.'* 
Jack Wilmeter, somewhat of a wag, had perplexed the honest 
coachman, on a certain occasion, by telling him that "boss" wag 
the Latin for "ox,'^ and that it was beneath his dignity to be 
using Pill and Pole-us (Bolus) to drag about "oxen.^^ But 
Stephen recovered from this shock in due time, and has gone on 
ever since, calling his master " boss." "We suppose this touch 
of "republican simplicity" will maintain its ground along 
with the other sacred principles that certain persons hold on to 
so tightly that they suffer others, of real importance, to slip 
through their fingers. 

Stephen was proud of his oflSce that day. He liked his new 
mistress — there are no bossesses — and he particularly liked Misa 
Anna. His horses were used a good deal more than formerly, 
it is true ; but this he rather liked too, having lived under the 
regimes of the two first IMrs. McBrain. He was doubly satisfied 
because his team came in fresh, without having a hair turned, 
while that of Madam, as all the domestics now called Mildred, 
were white with foam. Stephen took no account of the differ- 
ence in the distance, as he conceived that a careful coachman 
would have had his " boss" up early enough to get over the 
ground in due season, without all this haste. Little did he un- 
derstand the bossess that his brother-whip had to humour. She 
paid high, and had things her own way. 

Anna thought Stephen had never driven so fast as he did 
that morning. The doctor handed her from the carriage, lead- 
mg her and his wife directly up to the altar. Here the party 
was met by John and his uncle, the latter of whom facetiously 



600 THE WAYS OF THE II O U U. 

Bf-yled himself the " groomsman." It is a ceremony much more 
easily done than undone — great as the facilities for the last are 
getting to be. In about five minutes, John Wilmeter and Anna 
Updyke were pronounced to be "ouo flesh." In five minutea 
more, Jack had his sweet, smiling, happy, tearful bride, in his 
own light vehicle, and was trotting away towards a pretty little 
place in Westchester, that he owns, and which was all ready to 
receive the young couple. The ponies seemed to understand 
their duty, and soon carried the bride and bridegroom out of 
sight. 

"Them's awful trotters, them nags of Mr. Jack Wilmington's," 
said Stephen, as the double phaeton whirled away from the church 
door, "and if Miss Anny doesn't disapprove on 'em, afore long, 
I'm no judge of a team. I'm glad, however, the young gen- 
tleman has married into our family, for he does like a boss, and 
the gentleman that likes a boss commonly likes his vife." 

His remark was overheard by Dunscomb, though intended 
only for the ears of the counsellor's coachman. It drew an an- 
swer, as might have been foreseen. 

"lam glad you approve of the connexion, Stephen," said the 
counsellor. in his good-natured way. " It is a great satisfaction 
to know that my nephew goes among friends." 

" Fri'nds, Sir ! Admirers is a better tarm. I'm a downright 
admirer of Mr. Jack, he 's sich tastes ; always with his dog, oi 
his gun, or his boss, in the country ; and I dares to say, with 
his books in town." 

"Not just all that, Stephen; I wish it were so; but truth 
■'ompels me to own that the young rogue thinks quite as much 
of balls, and suppers, and tailors, and the opera, as he does of 
Coke upon Lyttleton, or Blackstone and Kent." 

"Veil, thiit's wrong," answered Stephen, "and I'll uphold 
no man in vot's wrong, so long as I can do better. I know'd 
both them racers, having heard tell on 'em at the time they vos 



THE WAYS OF TtlE HOUR. D(V1 

run, and I've heard good judges say, that timed the hosscs, that 
Kent come in neck and neck, if justice had been done. Mr. 
Jack will rectify, and come to see the truth afore long — matter- 
tiiony will do that much for him. It 's a great help to the seek- 
ers arter truth, is mattermony, sir !" 

" That is the reason you have so much of it at Timbully, I 
suppose,'' returned Dunscomb, nodding familiarly towards his 
friend the Doctor, who had heard all that was said. " If matri- 
mony rectifies in this way, you must be three times right at 
home, Stephen." 

"Yes, sir," answered the coachman, nodding his head in 
reply ; " and when a body does better and better, as often as ho 
tries, there's no great harm in trying. Mr. Jack vill corao 
round, in time." 

" I dare say he will, Stephen, when he has sown all his wild 
oats ; though the dog pretends to like the Code, and what ia 
more, has the impudence to say he understands it." 

" Yes, sir, all wrong, I dares to say. But Miss Anna will set 
him right, as a righter young lady never sat on the back seat of 
a coach. I wish, now we're on the subject, 'Squire Dunscomb, 
to hear your ra'al opinion about them vild oats ; vether they be 
a true thing, or merely a fancy consarning some vegetable that 
looks like the true feed. I 've often heard of sich things, but 
never seed any." 

"Nor will you, Stephen, until the doctor turns short round, 
and renews his youth. Then, indeed, you may see some of the 
grain growing beneath your feet. It is doctor's food. 

" Meshy, and good for the grinders of old bosses, I dares to 
Gay." 

" Something of the sort. It 's the harvest that age reaps from 
the broad-cast of youth. But we are keeping Mrs. McBrain 
waiting. Stephen will take one less back with him, than he 
brought, my dear lady," 



602 THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

" ] trust not Mr. iMcBraiu has given me reason to hope loi 
the pleasure of your company. Your nephew has carried off 
my daughter; the least you can do is to come and console 
me" 

" What is then to become of that dear, but unfortunate young 
hdy ?" glancing towards Mildred. 

" She goes with her relatives, the Millingtons. Next week, 
we are all to meet at Rattletrap, you know.'' 

The next week the meeting took place, as appointed. 
" Here I am," cried Dunscomb, " truly and finally a bachelor, 
again. Now for the reign of misrule, negligence, and bad house- 
keeping. Sarah has left me ; and John has left me ; and llat- 
feletrap will soon become the chosen seat of discomfort and 
cynicism." 

" Never the last, I should think," answered Madame de La- 
rocheforte, gaily, " as long as you are its master. But why 
should you dwell alone here, in your declining years — why may 
I not come and be your housekeeper.'' 

" The offer is tempting, coming, as it does, from one who can- 
not keep house for herself. But you think of returning to 
Europe, I believe?" 

" Never — or not so long as my own country is so indulgent to 
lis women 1" 

" Why, yes — you are right enough in that, Mildred. This is 
woman's paradise, in a certain sense, truly; though much less 
attention is paid to their weakness and wants, by the affluent, 
than in other lands. In every Christian country but this, 1 be- 
lieve, a wife may be compelled to do her duty. Here she is free 
as the air she breathes, so long as she has a care not to offend in 
one essential. No, you are right to remain at home, in youi 
circumstances ; that is to say, if you still insist on your mistaken 
independence ; a condition in which nature never intended your 
^-^x to exist." 



THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 50.'i 

* 

"And yoarself, sir ! Did not nature as much intend that you 
bhould marry, as another T* 

" It did/' answered Dunscomb, solemnly ; " and I would hav/; 
discharged the obligation, had it been in my power. You well 
know why I have never been a husband — the happy parent of a 
happy family." 

IMildred's eyes swam with tears. She had heard the history 
of her grandmother's caprice, and had justly appreciated the 
wrongs of Dunscomb. This it was not difficult for her to do, in 
the case of third parties, even while so obtuse on the subject of 
her own duties. She took the hand of her companion, by a 
stealthy and unexpected movement, and raised it still more un- 
expectedly to her lips. Dunscomb started; turned his quick 
glance on her face, where he read all her contrition and regrets. 
It was by tliese sudden exhibitions of right feeling, and correct 
judgment, that Madame de Larocheforte was able to maintain 
her position. The proofs of insanity were so limited in the 
range of its influence, occurred so rarely, now she was surrounded 
by those who really took an interest in her, and this not for the 
Bake of her money, but for her own sake, that her feelings had 
become softened, and she no longer regarded men and women as 
beings placed near her, to prey on her means and to persecute 
her. By thus giving her affections scope, her mind was gradu- 
ally getting to be easier, and her physical ei^tence improved. 
Mcl^rain was of opinion that, with care, and with due attention 
to avoid excitement and distasteful subjects, her reason might 
again be seated on its throne, and bring all the faculties of hcj 
mind in subjection to it. 

At length the time for the visit of the young people arrived 
Anxious to see happy faces assembled around him, Dunscomb 
had got Mildred, the McBrains, and the Millingtons, at Rattle- 
trap, to do honour to the bride and groom. Good Mrs. Gott had 
Cot been overlooked, and by an accident, Timms drove in at the 



f»04 r II K U A V S () K Til K II O tl u. 

ga(t!, jiLst US the whole party, including Jack and his blooming 
wile, wore ssitLing down to a late breakfast. The counsellor wel- 
comed his man of all work, for haoit renders us less fastidious 
in our associations than most of us imagine. 

Timms was very complimentary to both of the young couples, 
and in a slight degree witty, agreeably to his own mode of re- 
garding the olfspring of that cfl'ort of the imagination. 

" What do you think of "Williams's getting married, 'Squire 
Dunscomb?" the attorney asked. "There's a man for matri- 
mony ! lie regiu'ds women and niggers as inferior beings." 

" Pray how do you regard them, Timms ? The women only, 
I suppose?" 

" Oh ! dear, no, 'Sipiire ; as far as possible from that ! I reve- 
rence the ladies, Avithout whom our state in this life would be — " 

" Single — I suppose you wish to say. Yes, that is a very 
eensible remark of yours — without women we should certainly 
all get to be old bachelors, in time. But, Timms, it is proper 
that I should be frank with you. Mildred do Larocheforto may 
manage to get a divorce, by means of some of the quirks of tho 
law ; but were she to be proclaimed single, by sound of trumpet, 
fiho would never marry you." 

" You are sharp on mo (his morning, sir; no one but the lady, 
herself, can say that." 

" There you i^-e mistaken. 1 know it, and am ready to give 
my reasons for what I s;iy." 

" I should be pleased to hear them, sir — always respect your 
i\.j\soning powers, though I think no man can say who a lady 
>Nill or will not marry." 

''In the lirst place, she does not like you. That is one sufli- 
cient reason, Timms — " 

" Her dislike may be overcome, sir." 

"Her tastes are very refined. She dislikes her pi-csent hiis- 
i(aud principally because he takes snuff." 



T II K VV A Y H O 1-' T II K II O U U. .OOft 

" I should Lave thought she might have discovered her feelings 
)ii that subject, before she went so far." 

" Not as they manage matters in Europe. There, the suitor 
is not permitted to kiss his intended, as so often happens among 
ourselves, I fancy; and she had no opportunity of ascertaining 
Lo^v unpleasant snuff is. You chew and smoke, and she will 
endure neither." 

"I'll forswear both, rather than not bo agreeable to deju 
Mary IMonson." 

'^ Ah ! my poor Timms, I sec you arc deeper in this affair than 
I had supposed. But I shall turn you over to Mrs. Gott, who 
has promised to have an explanation with you, and who, I be- 
lieve, will speak by authority." 

Timms was not a little surprised to see his old master very 
unceremoniously leave him, and the sheriff's wife occupy his place. 

" 'Squire Timms,'' the latter commenced, without a moment's 
hesitation, " we live in a very strange world, it must be admitted. 
Gott says as much as this, and Gott is commonly right. Ho 
always maintained he never should bo called on to hang Mary 
Monson." 

" Mr. Gott is a very prudent man, but he would do well to 
take more care of his keys." 

" I have not been able to find out how that was done ! Mary 
laughs when I ask her, and says it was witchcraft ; I sometimes 
tliink it must have been something of the sort." 

"It was money, Mrs. Gott, which kept Goodwin concealed 
to the last moment, and brought about half of all that hap- 
pened." 

" You knew that Pelor Goodwin was alive, and hid up at Mrs. 
Horton's?" 

" I was as much surprised, when he entered the court, as any one 
there. My client managed it all for herself. She, and her gold." 

" Well, you have the credit of it, TimmB, let me tell you, ?ind 
22 



BOO r II 10 w A V .s I) K r II L ii o i' u. 

:i\aiiy in the county tliiuk it waa very well done. I am yoni 
friend, and over have been. You stood by Cott like a nu\n, at, 
his election, and I honour you for it. So I am about to give 
you a great i>roof of my friendship. Give up all thoughts of 
]\lary Monsou; she'll never have you." 

'' AVhat reasons have you for saying this?" 

"In the first plaee, she is married already." 

"She may get i\ divorco. Besides, her present husband id 
not a citizen. If I go to the senate, I intend to introduce a bill 
to prevent any but citizens getting married. If foreigners want 
wives, let tlicm bo naturalized I" 

" You tiilk like a simpleton I Another reason why you should 
not think of Mary Monson is that you arc nnsuited to be her 
husband r' 

"In what particular, I bog leave to ask ?" 

" Oh ! in several. You :u*o both too sharp, and would quarrel 
about yoiu: wit, in the very first month," returned Mrs. Gott, 
laughing. "Tako my advieo, Timms, and cast your eyes on 
some Duke's county young woman, who has a natur' more like 
your own." 

Timms growled out a dissent to this very rational proposition, 
but the discussion was carried on for some time longer. The 
woman made an impression at last, and when the attorney left 
the house, it was with greatly lessened hopes for the future, and 
with greatly lessened ze:U on the subject of the divorce. 

It was singular, perhaps, that Mrs. Ck)tt had not detected the 
great secret of jMary IMonson's insanity. So many pei*sons are 
going up and down the countr}', who are mad on particular sub- 
jects, and sane on most others, that it is not surprising the in- 
telligence and blandishments of a woman like IMildred should 
tlirow dust into the eyes of one as simple-minded as Mrs. Gott 
With the world at large, indeed, the equivoque was kept up, and 
while many thought the lady very queer, only a few suspected the 
truth. It may be fortunate for most of us that writs of lunacy 



T II 1! W AYS O F T II E fl O U 11. r>07 

are not VAan (jut against us : few men, or women, being undoi 
tlio (yjutrol of a good, healthful reason at all times, and on all 
liubjeeis. 

In one particular, Mad. de Larochcfort was singularly situated. 
She was surrounded, in her ordinary assrx;iations, with newly 
married persons, who were each and all strenuously resolved to 
regard the relation in the most favourable point of view ! Per- 
haps there is nothing on earth that so nearly resembles the purb 
happiness of the blessed, as the felicity that succeeds the entire 
union of two hearts that are wrapjKid up in each other. Such 
persons live principally for themselves, regarding the world at 
large as little more than their abiding place. The affinity of 
feeling, the community of thought, the steaflily increasing confi- 
dence which, in the end, almost incorporates the moral existence 
of two into one, are so many new and precious ties, that it is not 
wonderful the novices believe they arc transplanted to a new and 
ethereal state of being. Such was, in a measure, the condition 
of those with whom Mildred was now called on to associate most 
intimately. It is true, that the state of the doctor and his wife 
might be characterized as only happy, while those of the youn^ 
people amounted to absolute felicity. Mildred ha/1 experienced 
none of the last, and very little of the first, on the occasion of her 
own marriage, which had been entered into more as a contract 
of reason, than a union of love. She saw how much she had 
niiBscd, and profound was the grief it occasioned her. 

" You seem very happy," she remarked one day to Anna, as 
Uioy were again threading the pretty little wood at Rattletrap — 
"more than that — rJelighted would be a better word." 

"Jack is very kind to me, and the only complaint I have to 
make of him is, that he is more fond of me than I deserve. I 
tell him I tremble lest our happiness may not last!" 

" Enjoy it while you may. It ifl so rare to find married per- 
Bons who are so completely devoted to each other, that it is 
a pleasant sight trj look upon. I never knew any of this, Anri.-u^' 



S'OS THE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 

" I regret to hear it, dear mamma — it must be that you began 
Wrong. There should be a strong attachment before the nuptial 
benediction is pronounced; then, with good hearts, and good 
principles, I should think almost any woman might be content 
with her fate." 

"It may be so,'' returned Mildred, with a profound sigh; "I 
suppose it 7}iust be so. We are created by God, to fulfil these 
kind offices to each other, and to love our husbands ; and there 
must be something very wrong when different results follow. 
For myself, I ought never to have married at all. My spirit ifi 
too independent for matrimony." 

Anna was silent; for, possibly, she might have read "head- 
strong" for "independent." The most truly independent think- 
ers are those who are willing to regard all sides of a subject, and 
are not particularly wedded to one. Mildred was acute enough 
to see that the beautiful young bride did not exactly like the 
allusion she had made to her new character. 

" You do not agree with me ?" she demanded quickly, bending 
forward to look into her companion's eyes. 

" How can T, mamma Mildred ! As I think no one, man or 
woman, should have a spirit that disqualifies her for the duties 
imposed by nature, which is merely the law of our great Creator, 
how can I agree to your notion of so much independence. We 
are not intended for all this independence, but have been placed 
here to do honour to God, and to try to render each other happy. 
I wish — but I am too bold, for one so young and inexperienced." 

" Speak freely, dear. I listen with pleasure — not to say with 
curiosity." 

" I am afraid, dear mamma, that the great guide of human 
conduct is not as much studied in France, as it should be. That 
teaches us the great lesson of humility. Without humility we 
arc nothing — cannot be Christians — cannot love our neighbourri 
as ourselves — cunnot even love God, as it is our duty, as wc 
on^ht to do." 



T]IE WAYS OF THE HOUR. 509 

'* This is very strange, Anna, coming from one of your age ! 
Fs it common for American girls to reason and feel in this way ?" 

" Perhaps not, though I hope more so than is commonly sup- 
posed. You will remember what a mother it is my good fortune 
to possess. But, since you really wish me to be frank with you, 
let me finish what I have to say. I suppose you know, Mildred, 
how much more you have to contend with than most of your sex ?'" 

" Mons. de Larocheforte, you mean ?" 

"Not at all,'' returned Mrs. John "Wilmeter, slightly smiling. 
" I put all thought of contention with a husband out of the ques- 
tion. You know I have not been married long enough for that, 
and I could almost hope that the first day of such a scene might 
be the last of my life ! John would cease to love me, if I quar- 
relled with him." 

" You will be an extraordinary pair, my dear, if scenes, as you 
call them, do not occasionally occur between you." 

" I do not expect faultlessness in Jack ; and, as for myself, I 
know that I have very many motes to get rid of, and which I 
trust may, in a measure, be done. But let us return to the case 
of a woman, young, well-educated, handsome, rich to superfluity, 
and intellectual.'' 

" All of which are very good things, my child," observed Mad. 
de Larocheforte, with a smile so covert as to be scarcely seen, 
though it betrayed to her companion the consciousness of her 
making the application intended — "what next?" 

" Wilful, a lover of power, and what she called independent." 

" Good and bad together. The two first, very bad, I acknow- 
ledge; the last, very good." 

" What do you understand by independence ? If it mean a 
certain disposition to examine and decide for ourselves, under all 
the obligations of duty, then it is a good thing, a very good thing, 
as you say ; but if it merely mean a disposition to do as one 
pleases, to say what one likes, and to behave as one may at tho 
moment fancv. tJien ^'t strikes me as a very b.vl thing. This in- 



t)l T II E WAYS O F T HE HOUR. 

depeinlence, half the time, is only pride and obstinacy, dotu 
uiamma V 

" Well, what if it is ? Men are proud and obstinate, too; and 
they must be fought with their own weapons." 

" It is easy to make smart speeches, but, by the difficulties I 
Di?et with in endeavouring to conquer my own heart, I know it 
IB very hard to do right. I know I am a very young monitress — ' 

" Never mind that. Your youth gives piquancy to your in- 
Btructions. I like to hear you." 

" "Well, I will finish what I had to say. I have ever found 
that the best assistant, or it might be more reverent to say, the 
best mode of subduing error, was to comport ourselves with 
humility. Ah ! my dear mamma, if you could understand how 
very strong the humble get to be in time, you would throw aside 
your cherished independence, and rely on other means to secure 
your happiness I" 

lYn-haps Mildred was as much struck with the circumstances 
under which this rebuke or admonition was given as with the 
advice itself. It had an effect, however, and Dunscomb coming 
in aid of his niece, this singular woman was gradually drawn 
from the exaggerated notions she had ever entertained of herself 
and her rights to the contemplation of her duties, as they are 
exercised in humility. 

If there were no other evidence of the divine origin of the 
rules of conduct taught by the lledeemer than the profound 
knowledge of the human heart, that is so closely connected 
with the great lessons in humility everywhere given in his 
teachings, we conceive it would be sufficient in itself to establish 
their claim to our reverence. If men could be made to foci how 
strong they become in admitting their weaknesses ; how clearly 
they perceive truth, when conscious of gazing at its form amidst 
the fogs of error ; and how wise we may become by the coU' 
soiousncss of ignorance, more than half of the great battle iw 
fDorals would be gained. 



THE W A V S O F T II E II O U 11. 611 

Iluinility was, indeed, a hard lesson for Mildred Millingtou 
to study. Ilcr whole life had been in direct opposition to its 
precepts, and the great failing of her mind had a strong leaning 
to a love of power. Nsvertheless, there is a still, searching pro- 
cess of correcting, so interwoven with the law of the New 
Testament, as to be irresistible when brought to aid us, in the 
manner prescribed by its own theory. No one knew this better 
than Dunsoomb ; and he so directed the reading, thoughts and 
feelings of his interesting charge, as to produce an early and a 
very sensible change on her character. The tendency to insanity 
is still there, and probably will ever remain; for it is not so 
much the consequence of any physical derangement as of organ- 
ization; but it already promises to be so far controlled, as to 
leave its unhappy subject, generally rational, and, for most of 
her time, reasonably satisfied. 

Dunscomb had several interviews with the vicomte — no-vi- 
comte — whom he found a much more agreeable person than he 
had been prepared to meet, though certainly addicted to snuif. 
He was made acquainted with the mental hallucinations of his 
wife as well as with the fact of their being hereditary, when a 
great change came over the spirit of his dream ! He had 
married to perpetuate the family de Larochefortc, but he had nc 
fancy for a race of madmen. Dunscomb found him v<iry reason- 
able, in consequence, and an arrangement was soon made, under 
the advice of this able counsellor, by means of which Mildred 
virtually became her own mistress. I\I. de Larochefortc accepted 
an ample provision from the estate, and willingly returned tc 
Europe, a part of the world that is much more agreeable, 
usually, to men of his class than our own "happy country.'" 
His absence has proved a great assistance to those who have 
assumed the care of Mildred\s mental state. As all the schemes 
for a divorce have been discontinued, — schemes that could have 
led to no strictlj legal consequence, — and her husband has lef* 
tht :;ountrj the inind of IMildrcd hns become calmer, and the 



512 THE WAYS OF THE no UK. 

means Lave boon foiiud to bring her almost completely within 
tlie control of her reason. 

We have very little to say of the other characters. Timms is 
Ft ill himself. lie boasts of the fees he got in the groat Mary 
Monson case. His prospects for the state senate are far from 
bad, and shonld he succeed, we shall expect to see him whining 
about " republican simplicity," abusing " aristocracy," which iu 
his secret heart, means a clean shirt, clean nails, anti-tobacco 
chewing and anti-blowing-the-nose-with-the-fiugers, and aiding 
anti-rentism. He is scamp enough for anything. 

Williams is actually married, and, in reply to Timms's accounts 
of the fees, he intimates that Peter Goodwin's ghost would not 
have appeared, had he not "been choked off." It ought to be 
strange that these two men like to boast of their rascality ; but 
it is iu obedience to a law of our nature. Their tongues merely 
echo their thoughts. 

The McBraius seem very happy. If the wife be an " old man s 
darling," it is not as a young woman. Dunscomb still calls her 
" widow," on occasions, but nothing can interrupt the harmony 
of the friends. It is founded on nuitual esteem and respect. 

Michael and ^arah promise well. In that fiimily, there is 
already a boy, to its great-uncle's delight. The parents exult in 
this gift, and both are grateful. 

We care little for Jack Wilmeter, though a very good fel- 
\o\f, iu the maiu. Anna loves him, however, and that gives 
him an interest in our eyes, he might not otherwise enjoy. IIis 
charming wife is losing her superfluous enthusiasm in the reali- 
ties of life, but she seems to gain in womanly tenderness and 
warmth of healthful feeling, precisely in the degree in which she 
loses the useless tenant of her imairination. 



THE END 



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